


Rain or Shine

by shatteredcrystalwings



Series: Hiding Face and Mind [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Familial Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredcrystalwings/pseuds/shatteredcrystalwings
Summary: After hearing rumors of the artist Madarame plagiarizing his students' work, Akechi decides to investigate and gets a lot more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to my previous fic Wax Nostalgic, however it isn't necessary to have read that before and direct references to its plot won't be made until the final chapter. For anyone who HAS read Wax Nostalgic, be aware that this is going to be much heavier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief descriptions of nausea, physical abuse, and dissociation in this chapter.

Pedestrians bustled about Shibuya crossing, weaving between each other in the mid-afternoon rush of people moving from work or school onto their social and home lives. Among them was Akechi, exiting the station in hopes of making it to and from the convenience store to grab a post-school pre-work sandwich before he needed to catch his connecting train.

“Please, can you offer any change?”

His attention was caught by a sentence that he normally would pointedly ignore, but the youthfulness in the voice piqued his interest. He looked to where it came from a few meters away: a young man, only maybe a few years Akechi’s senior, sat on the ground nearby with an empty coffee cup in his hand being offered to passersby. Homeless people were hardly an uncommon sight, but one so young certainly was.

Kicked out by his parents? Or maybe he’d had a run in with those rumored debt collectors who were targeting high school students?

Maybe he could find out something interesting...

Approaching the boy, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plastered a fake look of sympathy on his face. “May I ask how you’ve come to find yourself in this situation?” Straight to the object of interest. There was no point wasting pleasantries on types like this.

The boy went wide-eyed, taking in the wallet for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What’s it to you?”

Akechi unfolded his wallet, slipping a finger into the bill section and acting as though considering it while he spoke. “I’m merely curious. I apologize if my question came across as rude.” He nudged a two thousand yen bill so that the corner of it was visible.

With slight hesitation, the youth spoke without tearing his gaze from the bill. “...I was conned by my damn instructor. He passed my art off as his own then took everything I had and kicked me out when I went after him about it. That damned Madarame…”

An art instructor? That was unexpected. Probably not useful, though the name did strike a slight chord of familiarity. Maybe he would look into it, considering he had no other cases he was working on at the moment. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He pulled out a couple five yen coins he kept in the same pocket for just such situations, dropping them in the dumbstruck boy’s cup before continuing on his way, musing silently over whether he should buy a ham and mustard or egg salad sandwich.

* * *

“Yusuke! What are you dawdling for? Do you _want_ me to leave you here?!” Madarame’s voice carried up the stairs and into Yusuke’s small bedroom through the open doorway, though he was fairly certain that it would still reach even if the thin door had been shut. As it happened, Yusuke wouldn’t in fact mind staying home, but he knew that acting on such whims would not have favourable results. Giving up his search for his jacket and resigning himself to the chill of the art gallery’s overpowered air conditioning, he hastily made his way to the car where his teacher waited.

It was the opening day for the new exhibition of Madarame’s works at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum, so it stood to reason that the man wanted to be there for the sake of his fans. Despite the looming approach of midterms and his semester art piece which still needed to be completed, Madarame had insisted Yusuke come along, saying it would be good experience for when he himself had his art displayed in the future and that the boy needed to get out more anyway. Yusuke tried to push aside suspicions that the true purpose of his presence was to be paraded around as though he was another display piece, with which Madarame could tell the heartwarming tale of taking in this poor orphaned child and raising him as his primary protégé.

No, he was being silly. Such comments were made out of parental pride, nothing more. He was wrong to be thinking such things about the man who had done so much for him.

Once a few blocks from the art gallery, the car pulled into a side street so that the two men could get out and walk the remaining distance, a habit of Madarame’s so that he was able to get some exercise in in his old age. The building itself was as cold as usual and Yusuke quickly folded his arms in a gesture he hoped was casual, trying to conserve what body heat he could. He silently wished he had been able to remember what he had done with the jacket after he’d worn it a few days earlier, though he had the horrible suspicion that he’d accidentally forgotten it in a café.

“Ah, Yusuke,” Madarame said once through the ticket area that had been filled with people hastily taking pictures of them as they passed, “I have some business with the curator. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Yes, of course Sensei.”

With a gentle nod he reserved for public, the old man walked away, leaving Yusuke alone and once again questioning his reasons for coming.

Left to his own devices, he didn’t immediately head in the direction of Madarame’s exhibit. The museum was quite large, usually holding several exhibitions at once, and he was far more interested in seeing those pieces than the ones he was already more than familiar with. There was a feature on sixteenth century Flemish art that sounded quite intriguing…

Galleries had always been an area of comfort for him, a familiar environment he had frequented for as far back as his memory spanned. Regardless of how busy they were, their volume was never a loud one and often rooms would have their lights lowered to protect the paint on older pieces. He found them gentle, almost maternal in their kindness. They were a place he could wander undisturbed, drifting from one installation to the next, pondering on the methods and thoughts that went into the conception of each. Were Yusuke to be honest, he would admit that, in recent years, he often felt more at home in galleries than in the atelier.

After about an hour had passed, however, he made his way back to Madarame’s exhibit. The others were smaller and didn’t take too much time to go through, but even if that wasn’t the case, Yusuke knew Madarame would probably be looking for him sooner or later. Re-entering the main room, he noticed his teacher on the far side being interviewed. It would probably be best to stay on this side of the room, lest he be dragged in as well… Instead, he turned to face the paintings nearest him. The works themselves may be familiar, but he had yet to read many of the descriptions included with each. It was a way to pass the time, if nothing else.

“Oh, this is it!” he heard a girl’s sudden voice say from a short ways off, a touch louder than was polite. “This is the painting I wanted to see in person!” Yusuke looked over, curious at which piece would garner such a reaction, and was surprised to see it was one of his own.

He understood his teacher’s circumstances better than probably anyone. He had born witness more times than he liked to remember what the resulting stress of Madarame’s art block did to him, clearly remembered the yelling and thrown objects that had occasionally hit him (by accident, of course.) As his pupil, Yusuke should be honoured to have his work up on these walls. Yet even so, seeing paintings, more than one, that he had put hours of effort into celebrated under a name that wasn’t his caused an odd tightness in his chest.

Keeping his eyes towards the wall, he moved over a few paintings so that he was closer to the girl. She was still talking, seeming to be speaking to the two boys who accompanied her, and he was curious what she thought. “I guess it’s the painter’s anger?” he heard her say. “I’m not sure, but I sense this… strong frustration from it. Madarame seems so cheerful and gentlemanly, it’s hard to imagine him making such a piece.”

The tightness seemed to curl even more as he listened. Anger. Was that was this feeling was? No, the girl was probably more correct when she had mentioned frustration.

And the comment about Madarame being “gentlemanly”, Yusuke could have laughed. It was a mask put on for the public. Everyone wore one, he knew. It wasn’t something he could fault the man for. But still, there was an underlying layer of resentment towards him that he found himself pushing back more with each passing day.

His throat felt as if it was constricting. He needed to go to another room, needed a few minutes to recollect himself. He was getting too worked up. Maybe he could go back to one of the other rooms, but he was starting to taste bile. Bathroom. A bathroom was a better option. There was one near the entrance, not far away. Hopefully Madarame wouldn’t notice him.

Barely a minute later, he was leaned over a sink with his handkerchief pressed tightly against his mouth, willing his stomach to stop churning. His reflection looked positively green in the face. To think he could rile himself into such a state… It was unbecoming, especially at an event that was so important to his teacher. With his free hand steadying himself, he bent down until his forehead was pressed to the cool ceramic of the sink. Calm down and get back out there. Just calm down.

“Are you okay?”

Was he the one being asked? He didn’t recognize the voice, but the bathroom had appeared to be empty when he came in… He raised his head, looking in the direction of the person who had spoken to find that a boy around the same age as himself stood a few feet from him, a look of surprise on his face and an extended hand paused. He looked vaguely familiar, though Yusuke couldn’t put his finger on why.

Embarrassed, he straightened himself and immediately regretted the sudden movement. He swallowed, but spoke “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” the boy said, bringing a silver briefcase into sight and moving as if to unclasp it. “I have some nausea medicine if you-”

“I’m fine. Really,” he pressed, raising a hand of his own in protest. “Thank you though, I appreciate it.”

The boy conceded with a nod, brushing a piece of his shaggy hair behind his ear as if in thought. Raising his eyes again to meet Yusuke’s, he asked “Are you a fan of Madarame’s?”

Yusuke studied him for a moment. The question seemed a bit out of place. After all, anyone at the art gallery that day was presumably a fan of Madarame’s to some degree. “...I’m his pupil, actually.”

“Oh! I must apologize, I hadn’t realized.” The boy cocked his head. “That’s interesting though, I’ve heard he doesn’t have very good relationships with his students.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve heard some talk is all. Plagiarism and abuse. All baseless rumors, I assure you.”

Yusuke’s hand curled into a fist at his side. “How dare you say such things?”

“Oh, I just found it interesting is all. Unless of course, you’ve experienced it yourself? Perhaps you could tell me about it.” The boy smiled kindly, but there was mirth in his eyes.

“I won’t stand here and let you slander my teacher like this,” he growled in a voice angrier than he knew he was capable of, low so as not to carry but powerful all the same. The earlier emotions, the frustration and the lingering doubts, felt as if they were coiling together into something horrible inside him now that he had this clear “other” in front of him on whom he could release it. “If you say one more word,” he said, trying to keep himself grounded, “I will have you thrown out by security this instant.”

The boy laughed and Yusuke felt as though he had never heard a more disgusting sound. “You look like you’d like to do more than have me thrown out. I promise, I mean no offense. Actually,” he reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a business card of all things, “I’m trying to help.” Crossing the small space between them, he slipped the card into Yusuke’s breast pocket, Yusuke focusing too much on keeping himself from lashing out to do anything about it as the boy patted the pocket before stepping back again. “Think about giving me a call,” the boy said over his shoulder brightly, stepping out of the bathroom.

Alone again, he took a couple minutes to just focus on taking deep breaths. He had never gotten like that before, had never been one to have a short fuse and, frankly, it scared him a little. Was he really feeling that backed into a corner?

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the card and running his eyes over the text written in plain neat black lettering: Goro Akechi, Private Detective.

* * *

Yusuke slid closed the door to his bedroom, wishing for not the first time that it had a lock on it. His forearm throbbed where Madarame had hit it with his cane only a few minutes earlier, yelling about “where had he been?!” and “did he have any idea how embarrassing it had been when the interviewer had asked him about his pupils and Yusuke was nowhere to be found?! And after going through all that trouble of bringing him along!”

He had ended up just sitting in one of the toilet stalls for an hour, scared of how he had reacted in front of the detective boy and too afraid that he would do the same towards the next person who spoke to him. What a coward he was.

Who had that Akechi guy thought he was anyway, immediately bringing up such horrid rumors about Madarame as soon as he knew that Yusuke was his pupil? And a _private detective_? Even having business cards at that. He had looked around seventeen; what person that age went around acting so high and mighty?

He pulled the small square of cardstock from his pocket, glaring down at the name that seemed to laugh at him. How absurd. Intending to rip the offending object in half, he raised his left arm only for the sudden movement to cause it to throb again.

Akechi had used the word “abuse.”

Absurd. It was absurd.

His arm throbbed. His gut twisted.

He slipped the business card under the cover of a book he’d been reading. Holding onto it for a little while wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

“Excuse me!” Akechi called as he half-jogged towards a man in glasses. He had been standing outside the ward office for almost two hours now, going off a tiny shred of information he wasn’t even certain was credible, when he had finally spotted the man leaving. “You’re Natsuhiko Nakanohara, correct? My name is Goro Akechi. I apologize for contacting you like this, but I’m investigating something that I believe you may be related to.”

The man gave him a wary look, seeming to consider him for a moment. “You’re that detective who’s been on TV a couple times, aren’t you? Whatever you’ve heard about me, it’s not true,” he said, moving to walk away only for Akechi to stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s about the artist, Madarame,” he explained, though from his behaiour he wondered if there was something else the man was involved in. Nakanohara gave him a confused look, though his body seemed to relax a bit. Interesting. “I found some information suggesting you’re a former student of his; I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

The man scratched his head, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening in. “...Fine. But make it quick, I have somewhere to be.”

“Of course. I’m investigating rumors of mistreatment of his pupils, possibly even including him plagiarizing their artwork. Can you tell me anything about that?”

Nakanohara looked surprised. “How did- ...Yes. Um… I was only in his care for a short while, but I did see evidence of that.” Again, he glanced around nervously, as if Madarame would possibly jump out of the woodwork. “There was another student in his care who was my senior by several years. A very talented man. Madarame claimed all of his work as his own and kept heavy tabs on him to make sure no one else found out. Eventually... that student ended up killing himself.”

“Suicide?” Akechi exclaimed in surprise, perhaps a bit too loudly. He clapped a hand over his mouth, looking around in the same way Nakanohara had been doing. He hadn’t expected there to be so much to this… “Um,” he reasserted himself, “I’m also investigating a current student of his in relation to this, but I’m afraid he’s so far been unwilling to talk to me. His name is Yusuke Kitagawa. Do you know anything about him?”

“Yusuke? Yes, of course, he’s Madarame’s foster son.”

Oh, perhaps that was why he had been so aggravated when Akechi had spoken to him.

“...I left shortly after the other student committed suicide and Madarame cut me off from the art world when I did, so I don’t know details of his current situation, but I’m pretty sure Yusuke is in a similar circumstance. What’s more is that he feels indebted to Madarame for taking him in after his mother’s death… I spoke with him a few times back while I was still living at Madarame’s. I asked him if he found living there painful, and do you know what he said? ‘If I could leave, I would.’ I don’t know his exact circumstances, but I know that he at least feels like he has no choice. Um! You’re a great detective, aren’t you?”

Akechi took a half-step back, surprised at the man’s sudden enthusiasm. “...Yes, that’s what they say about me, at least.”

“Then, please! If you’re investigating this, at the very least, please try to do something to help Yusuke! I don’t want to see him end up like that other student…”

“Of course,” Akechi said, thinking back to that pained look Yusuke had had on his face for a moment when Akechi had mentioned the “rumors”. “I’ll do everything in my power to help him.”

* * *

The classroom was abuzz as students pulled desks together, chatter and laughter filling the air as the lunch break began. Yusuke sat alone at his desk by the door, quietly taking his own lunchbox out of his bag, containing leftovers from the previous night’s meager dinner. No one came to chat with him, nor even say a word of greeting as they walked by. It was fine. He was used to it.

His sketchbook was already on his desk. The lesson that had just ended had been reviewing a topic he already felt well versed in, so he had instead taken the time to work on a pencil sketch draft of an idea he’d been playing with for his next painting. The composition was good, but he felt as though the theme didn’t shine through as strongly as he would like it to…

“Did you see Akechi-kun’s segment on Future Fortune last night?!” Yusuke’s attention was pulled away from his work at the sound of the familiar name. He glanced into the hallway, seeing that it came from two girls passing by. Third years, by the look of it.

“I did! It was so cool hearing him explain how he solved that fraud case!” a second fading voice said.

It was the same Akechi.

He jumped out of his seat, lunch abandoned, and hurried to where the girls were in a few long strides. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed the arm of the girl closer to him who turned with an expression of shock with an undercurrent of fear. “Ah! I apologize.” He retracted his hand as if burned, looking down bashfully. He had surprised even himself in his brashness. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Could you tell me about this Akechi fellow?”

“Huh? Ew, no. Come on Haru, ignore this creep,” the first girl said, already turning to continue walking.

The other girl, the one whose arm he’d grabbed, stayed where she was though. He noticed she had moved to hold her arm in the same place and felt a pang of guilt. “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” she said, then explained “He’s a high school detective who’s been getting popular lately. There was a fraud incident in a major company that he brought to light a few weeks ago, and he’s aided the police a few times before that. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him, actually. He’s been mentioned on the news a number of times.”

“Ah, I… don’t watch TV actually.” Didn’t have one, was more accurate. “Thank you. And sorry again for grabbing you, I shouldn’t have done so.”

She paused for a moment, seeming thoughtful. “Thank you for apologizing.” She turned with a slight wave, rejoining her friend who had been watching with crossed arms.

After watching the two depart, he turned and returned to his desk, not taking his seat but instead pulling out the book he had slipped the business card into a few nights earlier. He opened the front cover, just staring at it for a moment. He’d noticed while getting dressed that morning that the place on his arm where Madarame hit him had bruised and he’d been thankful that the school hadn’t switched to summer uniforms yet. That same place seemed to throb again as he looked down at the ink that formed Akechi’s name.

Not giving himself time to hesitate, he grabbed up the card and dug through his bag for his phone before returning to the hallway, quickly making his way to the nearest bathroom. He glanced under the stalls, ensuring no one else was present, before entering and locking the last one, punching in the phone number on the card.

He was just starting to worry that he had called while Akechi’s school was still in classes when the line connected on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” said the voice from the art gallery.

He swallowed, his mouth going dry. It wasn’t too late to hang up. He could still turn back. “I’ll talk to you about Madarame.” The words came out in a rush before he could back out.

The line was silent for a moment. “This is Yusuke Kitagawa, am I correct?”

Yusuke blinked in surprise. “I didn’t give you my name the other day.”

“Yes, I must apologize,” Akechi said with a hint of laughter. “I actually followed you into the bathroom knowing who you were. I thought you might be more receptive if I acted as if we were meeting by chance, though evidently I was wrong. Now about why you called me, I’m afraid I’m busy for most of today. How about we meet tomorrow around four at the Starbucks over Shibuya crossing?”

“I- Yes, that’s fine,” Yusuke agreed, his mind feeling like it was going a mile a minute as he tried to wrap it around everything Akechi had just said.

“Great. I’ll see you there then.” The line disconnected.

Tomorrow at four. Madarame’s atelier was in Shibuya, so Yusuke would be there regardless of whether or not he met Akechi. If Madarame asked about it afterward, he could probably make up some excuse.

He walked back to the classroom as if in a daze.

Tomorrow at four he would betray the man who raised him.

Tomorrow at four he could very well destroy everything he had.

* * *

At half past three the following afternoon, Akechi ordered a grande iced cinnamon dolce latte and flax seed muffin and took a seat at the long counter that ran along the window, placing his briefcase on the chair next to him in order to claim it as well. He pulled out a few papers, spreading them in front of himself so as to compare their contents. They were files for the fraud investigation sent to him by the prosecutor heading the case, seeing as how he would be taking part in the legal suit due to his involvement. He had already received an earful after appearing on that talk show the other day. It had been great for his popularity but, as Sae had said, confidential information was confidential information.

The sound of someone clearing their throat came from behind him and he turned to see Yusuke standing there wearing a hesitant expression. Blinking, he looked down at his watch to see it was already a few minutes after four. He hadn’t realized he had lost track of time so quickly. “I’m glad you came!” he said, trying to make sure he didn’t sound too overeager. He hurriedly gathered the papers, putting them back in the briefcase which he removed from the seat that he gestured for Yusuke to take. “Have you ordered anything for yourself?”

“Ah, no. I decided against it…” He didn’t say it, but something about Yusuke’s tone seemed to indicate that his decision was based more on money than thirst.

“How about I buy you something?” he offered. “As way of apologizing for our first meeting.”

Yusuke seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Just a drink though.”

“Great,” Akechi smiled, stepping off his seat. “How about a surprise, then? Sweet or bitter?”

“Bitter.”

Akechi nodded, walking up to the till for the second time that afternoon. A few minutes later, he returned with a cup in hand, the dark liquid topped with a thin layer of caramel coloured foam swishing slightly as he walked. “A caffè Americano,” he said as explanation, setting it in front of the boy. “I’m in the habit of drinking them when I need to stay up late, but they’re good regardless.”

Yusuke didn’t look up as it was placed in front of him, simply wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic and muttering a soft “Thank you.”

“Now, about the actual reason we’re here…” he began slowly, coaxing. “To start, may I ask if something in particular prompted you to contact me?”

He watched as Yusuke opened and closed his mouth a few times, swallowed, and then pressed his lips together. He said nothing.

So there was something, but he didn’t want to say. No matter, Akechi could try again later. “That’s fine, I understand this is difficult for you,” he assured. “How about I ask questions and you can just answer with a simple yes or no?”

“...That sounds manageable,” Yusuke said, eyes not leaving his untouched coffee. Perhaps he should have bought him an iced drink, Akechi pondered. It _was_ hot outside. Warm drinks were supposed to be better for making people feel comfortable though.

“Alright, so,” he opened his briefcase again, this time pulling out a pad of paper, “is it true that Madarame has been plagiarising artwork?”

* * *

Yusuke’s mouth moved to answer the questions as if on auto-pilot, only partially aware of what what was being asked. His eyes were still fixed on the cup in his hands that he had taken a few sips of as the one-sided conversation had progressed, but they seemed to refuse to focus on it.

“Should we take a break, Yusuke?” He looked up at the sound of his name to find Akechi giving him a worried look. “I understand that this is a lot of sensitive stuff, it’s fine if we stop for a while to give you time.”

Yusuke turned back to his drink, taking a slow draw of it and trying to focus on the flavour. Trying to ground himself. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I want to get this over with.”

There was a beat of silence before Akechi spoke again. “...I’m going to have to insist, Yusuke. I mentioned before that I had spoken to Nakanohara. When I did, he voiced concern towards your wellbeing. He was worried you would reach breaking point and do something to yourself and, to be frank, seeing you like this is causing me the same fear. We’re stopping for the day.”

A hand appeared in front of Yusuke, gently grasping his wrist and he instinctively curled his own hand into a fist at the touch. A drop of water hit the counter beneath him, then another. He blinked. He hadn’t noticed he had started crying. He hurriedly rubbed his eyes with the back of his free hand, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of stopping the tears that seemed to flow freely now that he was aware of them. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Akechi said, seeming to lean away for a moment before moving back with a few napkins. His hand that was still resting on Yusuke’s arm moved down to grasp his own hand and, after a moment’s confusion, Yusuke realized he was trying to loosen his fist that had gone white in the knuckles, nails digging into the skin of his palm.

They just sat like that for a few minutes, Yusuke trying to calm himself while Akechi did what he could to help. Eventually, he took a deep shaking breath that turned into a humorless laugh as he realized how ridiculous he felt. “I really must apologize,” he said, removing his hand that he realized was still in Akechi’s and feeling his cheeks heat slightly. “Such public emotional displays are unlike me.”

“Again, it’s fine. I understand better than you know how stressful this kind of situation can be, I should have made us stop sooner. With that said though,” Yusuke saw Akechi turn his eyes to the notepad in front of him, “I think we have a lot to go on in regard to making a case out of this. The main thing we need now would just be physical evidence.”

“Physical?”

“Yes. At the moment, it would be no more than his word against ours. If we find solid physical proof, it’ll give us a much better chance assuming this goes to court. The plagiarism will be difficult. A defense lawyer could easily claim that any originals we present were created after Madarame’s copies.”

“And the abuse?”

“I’m afraid our argument for that will rely mostly on your and Nakanohara’s testimonies.”

Yusuke swallowed, then steeled himself. Twisting himself in his chair to face Akechi properly, he pushed up the sleeve of his uniform to reveal the bruise on his forearm. It was several days old at this point, a blemish of inky purples and yellows. Akechi’s eyes widened at the sight of it. “There was a fight after we returned home from the art gallery the other day,” Yusuke explained, his words slow and calculated. “Sensei was angry that he hadn’t been able to find me. There was a lot of yelling and, when I tried to explain myself, he tried to hit my head with his cane. This is from me blocking it. It will suffice as physical evidence of the abuse, will it not?”

Akechi was silent for a moment before turning to open his briefcase. “Yes, it will. Ideally, it would be best for us to bring this to authorities before that fades, but those incompetent pigs will likely disregard it unless we also bring forward evidence of the plagiarism at the same time. Just in case we don’t make it in time,” he pulled out a cell phone, “we should take a couple photos. At least one should include your face in it so we have proof of you being the victim.”

Yusuke nodded, moving as instructed while Akechi took the pictures.

“I suppose the main thing left is to find some proof of the plagiarism, then,” Akechi said once they had finished, placing the phone back in the briefcase. “Do you have any ideas?”

Yusuke thought for a moment, taking another sip of his drink that had gone cold. “...There’s a room in Sensei’s atelier that he always keeps locked. I’ve lived there for over a decade, but I have no idea what’s in it. That’s the only thing that comes to mind, unfortunately.”

“We should try to check that out. Is there a time in the near future when Madarame will be out for a while?”

“...He has an old friend whom he usually visits on Friday afternoons. She lives down in Kamakura, so he’s gone until evening if not until the next day. How do you plan to get in though? It has a heavy padlock on it.”

Akechi smirked at him. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

* * *

“Is something wrong, Yusuke?” Madarame asked, walking into the small room the boy used to house his canvases and paints, among other art supplies. All through dinner, Yusuke had avoided eye contact with him, the conversation sparse. Madarame had asked the usual questions a parent was expected to (“How was school?” “Are you keeping up in your studies?” “How are you doing on that painting you started?” “Did you hear about that brat detective who’s been making a name for himself?”) and had gotten only mumbles in response. Granted, the boy hadn’t been very talkative in years, but the degree it was at today seemed odd.

At his words, Yusuke looked up from the easel in front of him and, for a split second, Madarame would have sworn he wore an expression of panic. Perhaps he had just surprised him.

“No, Sensei. Have I done something to make you think so?” Yusuke replied, eyebrows knitting together.

Madarame crossed the room in a few short strides, moving so that he could see what Yusuke was working on. “I just thought you seemed oddly quiet today. On top of that, you came home later than usual.” The canvas was still mostly blank, but on it was a profile sketch of a figure sitting on a high chair, elbows resting on a counter. The features were indistinct, a rough outline that showed little more than the basic body shape and shoulder length hair. “Are you hiding something from me, Yusuke?” He narrowed his eyes, glancing sideways at the boy in question.

Ah, there was that panicked look he had thought he saw earlier, this time plain as day as Yusuke’s mouth flapped, trying to find words.

Loud laughter filled the room and Madarame clapped a hand on Yusuke’s back. “So you finally got yourself a girlfriend, hey boy?” he said, connecting the dots between his behaviour and the sketch. “Don’t worry, I won’t pry. Just don’t let her get in the way of your art.”

“I-I won’t…” Yusuke stuttered out, still not meeting his gaze.

“Good, good… I’ll let you get back to work. I’ve been seeing good things from you lately.” He laughed again, walking out of the room and already turning over in his mind ways he could alter the painting to make it better resemble what he was known for.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, half an hour after Yusuke returned home from school, Madarame bid his farewell at the door to the atelier.  As soon as he left, Yusuke found himself practically running to an upstairs window to watch until he was out of sight before texting Akechi. The two had planned after their previous Starbucks meetup that Akechi would wait in a small nearby convenience store, so it only took a few anxiety-ridden minutes before he saw him emerge from the opposite end of the street.

The front door was open before Akechi even had a chance to knock. He smiled in amusement. “So where is this locked room?”

Yusuke wasted no time in leading him back up the stairs, a small voice in the back of his mind saying that Madarame could return and catch them at any point in time. Granted, there had only been one time in the past when he had returned in order to pick up something he’d forgotten, but it had still happened and what happened once could happen again.

Akechi gave a small whistle when the door came into view and Yusuke didn’t have to ask to know why. The striking blues and golds that decorated it had always demanded the focus of anyone who passed, as if just begging to be opened. Yusuke was certain that, despite Madarame’s words that it was off limits, his curiosity would have gotten the better of him years ago had it not been for the heavy gold padlock.

“How are we going to open it?” Yusuke asked. “I hope you don’t plan to break it; Sensei is sure to notice and I doubt he’ll be happy when he does so.”

“Not to worry. As long as we don’t tamper with anything in the room itself, there should be no signs of our entrance.”

Yusuke looked towards Akechi with a questioning gaze, watching as he set his briefcase on the floor. From it, he extracted a small rectangle of leather with a silver clasp, his eyes widening as it was opened to reveal a set of lockpicks. Akechi met Yusuke’s eyes with a smirk, seeming amused at his surprise. “It’s amazing what can be found on the internet nowadays. Out of the way, please.”

“Is that going to work?”

“Any lock can be picked,” Akechi said, considering the heavy padlock. “It’s just a matter of how long it takes.” He pulled two of the tools from the set and inserted them into the hole, eyes narrowing and he moved them in practiced motions. Barely a minute later, it clicked open.

“It worked…”

“It worked.” Putting away the lockpicks, Akechi nodded towards the door. “Would you like to do the honors?”

He stared at it incredulously, not moving for a moment. For so long he had been told not to enter the room, had long given up on ever doing so, and now here was his chance. It seemed too good to be true yet, at the same time, terrifying in its possibilities. With baited breath, he yanked the door to the side hard enough for it to bounce back a bit.

The moment he flicked the lightswitch, it felt like his entire body had been dropped in ice water. “This is…”

Sayuri. Stacked against the wall were multiple piles of what appeared to be copies of the same painting, each indistinguishable from the others. It was the painting he had loved since he was a child. The painting that had lead him to pursue art himself. The painting that had made Madarame famous.

“Wasn’t… Sayuri stolen years ago?” Akechi said, causing Yusuke to whip around, having almost forgotten he was even there.

“T-these are surely just reproductions,” Yusuke grasped, trying to convince himself as much as his companion. “It’s normal, they’re sold for a cheaper price. There should be a number saying how many there are…” With stiff movements, he forced his body forward and kneeled down in front of the closest one. It had to be a misunderstanding, it had to be. Yet hard as he looked, he could find no signifier, no difference to separate these from the original. He felt his breathing starting to quicken and tried to focus on slowing it once again. “He probably just… hasn’t put them on yet…”

“Yusuke…”

“Sensei is in debt...! He has horrible art block! He’s surely just making reproductions of his masterpiece to try to make up for that, it has to be a misunderstanding!” He was practically yelling, gasping for breath between words.

There was the sound of footsteps crossing behind him and then of fabric rustling. He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want to see what Akechi had just found. “Yusuke.” He didn’t want to see. “Yusuke, I need you to confirm if this is the original.”

He stood as quickly as he could and, instead of moving towards the easel that Akechi stood in front of, he turned with quick steps back out the door.

“Yusuke!” He didn’t even make it halfway to the stairs before he was stopped, a hand grabbing his from behind. “I know this is hard, but you have to do this.”

He felt like he was going to suffocate. “I refuse. I can’t do this, forget I ever said anything to you.”

“You’re just going to give up? You can’t let him win. Yusuke, look at me.” Akechi’s voice was hard, demanding.

He curled his fingers into fists, but forced himself to turn, relaxed his pose as much as he could into one that wasn’t running away. “I can’t do this,” he repeated.

“Why did you decide to call me, Yusuke? Why did you decide to talk to me? You wanted to get out of this, and you still want to. You can’t let a little fear get in the way of that.”

“A _little_ ? This is my entire life!” Yusuke could feel his eyebrows pull together, willing himself not to cry. Willing his voice to stay even. “I thought I could handle losing that. I thought it was worth it, but _this_? This is too much. I was wrong. I can’t lose everything I have.”

Akechi took his head in his hands and Yusuke stiffened, Akechi locking their gaze as he gave him a hard look. “You need to calm down. This is hard, I know, but it’s the only way for you to get out of the situation you’re in. It isn’t everything.”

“Yes, it _is_. What do you know about me? Why are you even bothering to help me? If it’s because you’re hoping I’ll pay you for your ‘help’ I assure you, I have no money with which to do so.”

Akechi’s expression seemed to change to something like resolve and Yusuke was about to pull out of his grip when lips pressed against his. His eyes widened, fairly certain he would have stumbled back in surprise it if wasn’t for the fact that he was still being held.

When Akechi pulled away again, there was fire in his eyes. “Does that work as an answer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I did not anticipate this being nearly as big of a project as it's become. I have the drafts for the next two chapters written already, so it likely won't be too long of a wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for descriptions of physical abuse and dissociation in this chapter.

Akechi smirked at the look of shock Yusuke wore when he pulled away. Kissing him hadn’t been a part of the plan, but he had needed some sort of distraction and, given the circumstances, that was the most convenient one available. “I’m going to go back into the room to take pictures. I’ll give you a minute or two to collect yourself, but I do still need you to confirm that painting’s validity.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and paced back through the ostentatious door. Really, how idiotic was this Madarame to have left such damning evidence somewhere so noticeable? It was almost laughable that no one else had already caught him, but at least it made things easier.

After a little more than a minute, as Akechi was pulling out more varied paintings organized into slots along the wall opposite the stacked ones, Yusuke re-entered.

“Ready?” he asked looking up.

Yusuke said nothing, but nodded.

Good enough. Akechi motioned with his hand towards the painting on the easel, giving Yusuke an expectant look, then watched as he moved to it stiffly and began considering it. He ran his fingers over a section near the bottom then breathed out shakily. “...It’s the original,” he eventually said, sounding as if he was being strangled.

Akechi had to fight to keep the excitement off his face. This was going to be an even bigger scandal than he had expected. “You’re certain?” he asked, moving closer.

Yusuke turned his gaze on him, looking almost insulted. “Oh course! This is _Sayuri_ ; it’s the reason I chose to pursue art. Probably the only one who knows it better is Madarame himself. Here, this area,” Yusuke indicated the lower section of the painting that looked like fog. “It’s difficult to tell due to the texture of the gray and blue paint, but there’s the slight impression of something oblong having been painted here originally.” Yusuke moved to inspect one of the copies, speaking thus, “You see? It’s missing on the others.

“So what was painted there?”

“I’ve no idea, Madarame would become terribly enraged any time I asked. It was noticed by an art appraiser once who asked to xray it, saying that revealing ‘the truth behind Sayuri’s smile’ would be great publicity, but Madarame relented that he wanted no such thing and the appraiser was killed in a car crash before he was able to persuade him further.”

Akechi raised an eyebrow, opening his briefcase and rummaging through it in his haste to pulled out his notebook. He should have thought to take it out earlier, hurrying to scribble down everything Yusuke had said. “A car crash?” he pried.

“Yusuke?”

Both boys froze at the sudden voice downstairs, accompanied by the sound of the front door closing. Sharing a brief panicked look before Yusuke whispered, “My work room is the next over. Hide yourself, he knows who you are.” Akechi didn’t have time to protest before Yusuke was hurrying down the hall and, a moment later, his voice seemed to come from where Madarame’s had been only a moment earlier. “Sensei, what are you doing back so soon?”

No sooner was Yusuke out the door than was Akechi flinging the fabric back over the easel, rushing to close and relock the door. Hastily grabbing up his briefcase he dove as quietly as he could into the neighboring room.

“Bah, that damn woman called me when I was almost at the train station saying that something had come up. Hm? Do you have a friend over, Yusuke?”

Akechi felt the blood drain from his face, his eyes raking over the barren room as he looked for somewhere to hide.

“Of course not, Sensei, I was just working on that painting from the other day. Why do you ask?”

“I thought I heard something… You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Yusuke.”

Akechi listened as floorboards creaked up the stairs. The footsteps seemed to pause for a split second in front of where the gaudy door was before continuing down the hall to the room Akechi hid in, sliding open the door. Akechi held his breath.

“S-Sensei?” Yusuke’s voice came from the door.

“Mm, I’m just curious to see how that painting is coming along.”

“Uh- Well, actually I haven’t made much progress, I’ve been struggling to decide on how to do the colours…”

“We’ll just see what you have, perhaps I can offer some advice.” Madarame’s steps moved to the small closet then, without warning, he tore it open.

He was greeted by the sight of extra canvasses and old paints.

“S-Sensei?”

“...I apologize, Yusuke. Perhaps I’m getting neurotic in my old age. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to get an early start on supper…” His footsteps faded down the stairs.

Yusuke was quiet for a moment, before quietly calling out “Akechi?”

“I’m glad I decided against the closet…” Akechi muttered as he crawled out from behind a large canvas that was leaned against the wall.

Yusuke covered his mouth with a hand, letting out a breath of relief. “I was certain you _had_ , I think I just about had a heart attack.”

“That makes two of us. How am I getting out of here?”

Raising a hand to his chin, Yusuke was quiet for a moment, considering. “He usually asks me to run to the store to pick up ingredients for dinner once he’s decided what he’s making. You should be able to slip out while I’m leaving.”

* * *

“I’m home!” Yusuke called an hour later as he returned to the the atelier. The plan to get Akechi out had thankfully gone off without a hitch. They had agreed to meet after school the following afternoon once Akechi had had time to go over all the evidence and figure out how they would start a case against Madarame. As they had been saying their goodbyes, Akechi had glanced down at his lips and Yusuke had wondered for a moment if he was going to kiss him again, but nothing had happened in the end. Yusuke found that he almost felt disappointed. How curious.

Chasing the thought from his mind, he walked into the small kitchen and placed the bag of groceries on the counter. Madarame grunted out a noise that was probably intended as a thank you,, not looking up from the rice he was washing. “Prepare the fish, then make the table.”

He did as he was told, used to the routine, and before long the two were seated across from each other as they silently ate.

“Did you go into the room at the top of the stairs earlier?”

Yusuke inhaled his food in his surprise, coughing for a moment before he was able to reply. “What are you talking about, Sensei?” he choked out once he had dislodged the bit of cucumber enough to speak.

Madarame continued eating leisurely, not looking up as he spoke. “I went in to get a colour of paint I was missing while you were out and it seemed as though some things had been disturbed.”

“I have no idea how that happened, I swear to you. How do you suppose I got past the lock, after all? Perhaps a cat got in through the window?”

“There are no windows in that room.” Madarame finally looked up, putting his chopsticks down and reaching into the sleeve of the kimono he wore. “On the topic of the lock, however, I found this inside.” He pulled something from his sleeve and placed it in the middle of the table. Yusuke immediately felt himself pale.

One of Akechi’s lockpicks.

“I didn’t know you dabbled in such unsightly hobbies, Yusuke. Or perhaps it was the friend I heard creeping out the door with you earlier?”

“Sensei, I-”

Madarame slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to spill the food in front of him. “I don’t want to hear it!” he yelled. “What is your excuse, that you just _accidentally_ unlocked the room I’ve told you countless times is off limits?! Should I have beaten it into you in order to have you understand?!”

Yusuke shrank back in fear. This is what he had been afraid of, what he had tried to run away from that very afternoon. He had resolved himself, though. He had told himself that he would do what needed to be done. He wouldn’t let this man rule his life anymore.

Ushering every ounce of courage he could find, he rose from his seat and looked Madarame in the eye. “What happened to Sayuri, Sensei.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need to hear it to know the answer.

A look of surprise flickered across Madarame’s face for a moment. He stood as well, obviously trying to make up for the gap in their heights. “I told you, it was stolen.”

“Then why did I find it in that room?” Yusuke stared down at his teacher.

Madarame’s expression seemed to rearrange itself into a pitiable one, attempting to evoke empathy. “You know how my financial situation has been, Yusuke. My hand was forced, I was thinking only of doing what was best for you.”

For a moment, Yusuke felt himself waver. But it was too late for forgiveness. Not after everything Yusuke had been through. Not after everything he’d found out.

What a wretched man his foster father was.

“I don’t believe you. Even if I did, it doesn’t make what you’ve done right. You’ve exploited not only your art, but your _students_ for the sake of your own monetary gain.”

That same pitiable expression Madarame wore exaggerated itself briefly but, as he searched Yusuke’s gaze, it melted back into one of anger. His voice rose with every word. “You ingrate! You’ve gotten too conceded, I should have gotten rid of you years ago!”

Finally, Yusuke’s resolve shattered as he felt the pierce of the words.

“Useful, that’s all you were to me! As if I would ever risk myself for a piece of _shit_ like you…!” He reached out to pick up his cane and Yusuke instinctively took a step back. “GET OUT! YOU’RE NOT WANTED HERE!” He swung the cane at Yusuke, the impact hitting the back of his hand hard.

“Sen-”

“OUT!” The cane was raised again as Madarame rounded on him, forcing him towards the door. Yusuke turned to flee and felt the sharp sting as the cane came down again on his shoulder.

As soon as he was through the doorway, there was the sound of the lock being fastened. “If I see you’re face again, I’ll destroy you,” Madarame’s voice said from the other side, the calmness in it almost more frightening than the earlier yelling.

* * *

“Chicken, onion, eggs…” Haru quietly recited under her breath, counting off each item in her bag against her mental list as she made her way home from the shopping center. She still wasn’t used to this “living on her own” thing, having not realized until she was already famished that she had forgotten to buy ingredients on her way home from school, but it was what it was. She paused while passing a side street, vaguely remembering using it with a friend as a shortcut a few weeks earlier. Or was it the next one… Well, hopefully she remembered it correctly.

She turned and started down it, glancing around at the older houses and small businesses as she went, so different from her old neighbourhood. As she passed a parking lot, she almost jumped in shock as she noticed that a shadow hunched against the end of the wall was actually a person. A drunkard maybe? She should probably just keep walking… As she walked by them, however, she heard the very distinct sound of sniffling.

She would definitely regret not saying anything later…

“U-um… Excuse me, are you okay…?”

The figure stiffened visibly at her voice, then raised their head and, to Haru’s surprise, she recognized him. The boy looked up at her in confusion, seeming as if he was trying to place her with his red rimmed eyes. “You’re…”

“Haru Okumura,” she introduced. “We go to the same school; we spoke in the hallway the other day, I think.”

“Ah, yes I remember now…” He said, raising a hand to his forehead and Haru was shocked to see a large red welt on it.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, more firmly this time. “Your hand.”

The boy blinked, then looked where she indicated. His expression barely changed. He almost seemed numb.

“I don’t live far from here. How about we go there and you let me take a look at it?” It was an excuse, but she hoped it didn’t sound too much like one. She really didn’t want to just leave him out here. He looked shellshocked, though from what she didn’t know. The least she could do was try to help in some way. “It’s possible something could be broken.”

_Now_ his expression changed, though panic wasn’t exactly the emotion she had been hoping to instill. Oh, it was his right hand. If it was true that something was broken, it would make writing harder until it healed. Maybe that’s what he was afraid of.

“Come on,” she said, lightly grabbing his arm with her hand that wasn’t holding her groceries and pulling slightly to indicate he should stand. “This way.”

It didn’t take long to get to the run down apartment building (she had been right about the shortcut) and no sooner were they inside did she instruct him to sit on the couch. She herself moved to the kitchenette, placing down her groceries and opening the freezer to look for something he could ice his hand with, settling for a bag of frozen peas she’d forgotten she had. “Here. You keep that on it for a while, I’m going to start on my dinner. Are you hungry? I could make you some as well.”

“...No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.”

“Alright. What was your name, by the way? I don’t think I caught it earlier.” More like he didn’t say it, but that was beside the point.

“Yusuke Kitagawa.”

Ah, so that’s why he was so worried about his hand. While she hadn’t recognized his face, she did know the name. Rumors about the eccentric artist who studied under Madarame had been circling around the school for almost a month, what with the art exhibit and everything.

Wordlessly, she nodded and moved back to the kitchen to start cooking. She hummed to herself as she worked, eventually moving with it to the table. “There’s extra rice, if you want some,” she offered, but he didn’t respond, eyes seeming to be focused on the peas as he fiddled with the edge of the packaging. “...I’m not going to force you to say anything, but you can talk to me if you need to. Do you have anyone you can call or anything?”

Yusuke paused in his ministrations for a moment before continuing, not looking up as he said “I don’t know his number.”

“You don’t have your phone?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t have time to grab it.”

“Is he another student? If you give me his name I may know the number, or know someone else who might know it at least.”

“...He doesn’t go to Kosei, but… Goro Akechi.”

She blinked in surprise, suddenly remembering the conversation they’d had in the hallway. Without saying anything, she got up and walked into the bedroom. If she remembered correctly, she had written it down in her journal… Yes, there it was. Picking up the book, she walked back to where Yusuke was still fidgeting. “Here.”

Yusuke looked at the phone number on the page blankly for a moment before comprehending what it was, eyebrows knitting together as he looked back up at her. “Why do you…”

“I had planned to have him investigate someone a few months back, but, well, things kind of sorted themselves out differently,” she explained. Being disowned hadn’t been a part of her plan, but it was preferable to the alternative. “I’ve tried calling it before. It’s the right one.” Finally, he grasped the notebook in his uninjured hand and she moved to rummage through her purse. “You can use my phone,” she said as she took it out, handing it to him and receiving a small “thank you.” “I’ll take my dinner to my bedroom so that you can have some privacy. Let me know when you’re done.”

With his nod of understanding, she grabbed up her food which had sadly gone slightly cold and retreated into the bedroom, pulling out a textbook and trying to focus on that. The walls were awfully thin things…

* * *

Yusuke had to call twice before Akechi picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi. Um, it’s Yusuke.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Did something happen? This isn’t your regular number.”

Yusuke swallowed. “Madarame found out.”

“He- Are you alright?” There was a definite note of urgent concern in Akechi’s voice.

“I think so. I’m at a schoolmate’s apartment. My uh, my hand might be broken though.” Flexing his hand under the peas pack as he said this, he noted a sharp pain over the fourth metacarpal. It would probably be wise to get an xray done, just to be safe.

On the other end of the line, Akechi took a steadying breath. “Okay, start at the beginning.”

So he did, explaining everything from the forgotten lockpick to Haru happening upon him.

Akechi swore under his breath. “I sincerely apologize, I didn't even realize I had dropped it.”

“It's already happened, there’s no helping it.”

“What are you going to do tonight? Is this girl letting you stay over?”

“Um… Hang on.” Removing the phone from his ear, he got up from the couch and walked to the closed door Haru had disappeared. “Okumura-senpai?” he called, unable to knock between one hand holding the phone and the other being injured.

The door opened almost immediately. “Just Haru is fine. What’s up?”

“Um, about what I’m going to do tonight…”

Haru pursed her lips for a moment. “I’m fine with you staying if you need to. It’s already gotten pretty late after all and we take the same trains anyway. Oh, but your uniform…”

“...I should be able to grab it tomorrow morning as long as I’m quiet. I can change into it at the train station. Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Raising the phone back to his ear, he explained, “She’s allowing me to stay the night. I can probably talk to the school staff about staying in the dorms tomorrow.” It was well passed the deadline to apply for residency so the likelihood of there actually being a vacancy was small, but trying wouldn’t hurt.

Akechi gave a hum of understanding and, with a few words of well wishes, they hung up.

“I am truley sorry for putting you through this,” Yusuke said as he handed the phone back to Haru.

“Don’t be, I’m glad to help. Now, let’s take a look at that hand.” The two moved to the small table, peas package finally set aside. “Hold your hand out please,” she instructed, gently grasping his hand and guiding him to twist it slightly. “It definitely isn’t too swollen, which is a good sign, though it does look like it’s going to bruise… Does it hurt anywhere in particular?”

He nodded, then indicated the area where he had been feeling the sharp pain. “Here.”

“Try making a fist slowly?”

He obeyed, watching the movement as closely as she did.

“...It seems to be okay,” she confirmed and he immediately felt a wash of relief. “You can bend all your fingers and nothing in the hand itself seems to be moving weirdly. There’s no numbness?”

He shook his head.

“Good. If it’s still hurting by tomorrow you should go get an xray, but I don’t think it’s anything worse than maybe a small fracture, if that.”

Leaning back in his chair, he let out a loud sigh. “Thank you. I was worried it would turn out to be something worse.”

“Mhm, I can understand how that would be scary for an artist,” she said, smiling down at his hand that now rested on the table.

He gave her a questioning look. Had he mentioned he was an artist? Granted Kosei was largely an art school, but it did have a generalized department as well.

“Ah! I had heard a bit about you at school, to be honest,” she explained, seeming to realize his confusion. “I didn’t listen in on your phone call, I promise.”

“Am I that well known?” He certainly hadn’t thought so.

“Just recently. People have been talking a bit about you since you’re Madarame’s pupil.”

Yusuke sat in quiet surprise for a moment before he felt a laugh bubble in his throat, growing louder and louder until it sounded manic even to his own ears. Of course it was became of Madarame. That man had a hold on every part of his life, it seemed. The laughter slowly fizzled out, replaced by the prickling of tears and he pinched corners of his eyes between his thumb and middle finger in an attempt to stop them.

“D-did I say something wrong…?” Haru said and guilt budded in him as he realized she sounded almost afraid.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day.”

Haru nodded then stood from her seat and he watched as she disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of a closet opening soon following. “I’m afraid I don’t have a futon you can use…” she called, the walked back into the room with a pillow in hand and a blanket folded over one arm. “Are you okay with sleeping on the couch? If not, you can take the bed, I don’t mind.”

A small smile spread across his face. Thank god she had happened to walk by him. “The couch is fine. Thank you.”

* * *

A 6:45 on the dot the following morning, Yusuke was awoken by loud synth-pop coming from Haru’s bedroom, shortly followed by sounds of the girl fumbling around the room before opening the door. Her hair was a mess that added an extra half foot to her height and, had Yusuke not been groggy and slightly confused as he tried to remember where he was, he probably would have found it funny. The music followed her as she walked to the kitchen, seeming to come from the phone that looked dangerously close to falling out of her pajama pocket. “Breakfast… Um… Rice from last night…” she muttered under her breath, opening the rice cooker without really seeming to look at it.

Yusuke sat up with a long stretch, hoping to usher out some of the kinks that the couch had left in his back. “Good morning.”

With a small yelp, Haru spun around wide eyed to look at Yusuke, backing against the counter for a moment before recollecting herself, palm pressed to her chest. “I- Sorry. I forgot you were there.”

“No, I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Yusuke said, concerned.

“Um,” she turned back around, this time opening a cupboard, “I don’t have much we could make for breakfast. There’s still rice leftover from last night… I don’t think there’s much else…”

“Rice is more than enough, thank you,” he said, rising from the couch to help her. “Really, it’s more than generous considering how I’m imposing upon you.”

“Don’t say that, I’m the one who invited you to stay the night.” She passed him a bowl, motioning for him to help himself to what was in the ricecooker. “Now, we need to make it to the train station by about 7:40 at the latest so you have time to change into your uniform. How long do you think you’ll need to pick up that and your bag from your house?”

Thinking about it, Yusuke moved with his meager breakfast to the table. “I thankfully have my keys, so I don’t believe getting in will be an issue, and my things should be easy enough to grab quickly. My only worry is running into Madarame, but there’s not much I can do about that either way. Five minutes should hopefully suffice.

Joining him at the table, Haru nodded then pulled the phone out of her pocket to presumably check the time. “We should leave around 7:15 then.”

He swiveled around in his chair to look at the stove clock. 6:56. Yusuke had less than half an hour to mentally prepare himself for possibly having to face Madarame again.

* * *

The door to the atelier stuck in that same way it had for years when Yusuke unlocked it, jostling it before managing to slide it open. His heart was in his throat, hoping as hard as he could that Madarame had already left for the day, or at least was still asleep. Shuffling off his shoes, he quietly crept in, peering around doorways before passing them. It wasn’t until he reached the top of the stairs that he realized something was wrong.

That same door that had opened itself for him for the first time only yesterday now stood ajar, the lock missing completely.

Confusion engulfed him and he found himself suddenly moving with less cautious steps, flicking the light on.

Empty. The room that just yesterday had been filled with all the evidence he and Akechi needed was empty. The only sign that anything had even been there in the first place was the swath of fabric that had covered the original Sayuri, now laid in a heap in the center of the room as if to mock him.

He flew down the hall to the room that had acted as his studio and felt as if his heart was torn in two. The art supplies, the canvases, the finished paintings, even his easel. All of them were gone. Only a few paintings remained, half finished failures he’d all but given up on. On shaking legs, he moved to the closet and tore it open to find it just as bare.

What of his bedroom? Had that at least remained untouched?

Was anything left of what his life had been?

* * *

Haru glanced down at the clock on her phone, noting that a full ten minutes had passed since Yusuke had gone into the rundown building. She hadn’t heard any of the yelling that she had feared, but it still concerned her. Mustering up her courage, she crossed the small street and slip open the door. Still no sounds of yelling…

“Kitagawa-kun?” she called softly and, unsurprisingly, received no response. Fine, she would go in herself. She was a brave girl. She had stood up to her father before, she could do this now.

The bedroom was probably upstairs, she reasoned, heading straight down the hall towards where the stairs presumably were. About halfway up them, she heard the same familiar sound of muffled sobbing from the night before.

Hastening her steps, she practically ran to the open door that the sound was emanating from to find Yusuke sitting on a bed, face in his hands, in the middle of a ransacked room.

“What…”

Yusuke flinched visibly at the sound of her voice, head snapping up with a lock of unmistakable terror in his eyes for the moment before he realized it was her. “It’s gone. Everything’s gone.”

She ran her eyes around the room, properly looking at it this time. A school bag was open on top of a small dresser, books half pulled out and a wallet lying open and empty on top.  The closet as well had been torn apart and on the floor in front of it was an empty box that looked like someone one would keep their savings in.

Slowly, Haru stepped forward until she was able to crouch down in front of Yusuke, pulling into her arms the boy who had lost everything.

* * *

Akechi’s phone rang in his pocket as his train reached Shibuya station and he quietly thanked the good timing as he pulled it out and weaved his way towards the connecting line. The number displayed on the screen was the same as the night before. Yusuke again? Had he not been able to retrieve his own phone like he’d planned to?

“Hello?”

“U-um! Is this Akechi-san?” It was a girl’s voice on the other end. The one Yusuke had said he was spending the night with, perhaps?

“Speaking. How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t think of anyone else to call,” she said quickly, the words rushing together, and Akechi’s sense of urgency immediately rose. “Kitagawa-kun and I are at his teacher’s home right now. I don’t really know the situation, but it seems like there’s been some sort of robbery and Kitagawa-kun’s panicking.”

Robbery? “I can be there in ten minutes. Try to calm him down in the meantime.”

* * *

For Yusuke, the morning passed as a blur of disconnected moments.

He was vaguely aware of Haru speaking to him as if trying to comfort him, but their unfamiliarity and her lack of knowledge on the situation resulted in it bearing no fruit.

He was vaguely aware of Akechi suddenly appearing beside him as if called upon by magic, his attempts at comfort yielding somewhat better results. Guiding words and gentle touches brought him back to semi-lucid as they had far too often in the past week. The form of a figure crouched before him. The pressure of a hand lightly grasping his arm as he was spoken to. The sensation of a hand gently caressing the side of his head which called forth memories of childhood and, for a few minutes, seemed to only heighten his chaotic state before acting as something to hold onto in order to call himself back a bit.

A floodgate was opened and, without his volition, he found himself throwing himself upon the boy in front of him, shaking arms wrapping around Akechi’s frame and his face burying itself in the crook of his shoulder. Arms that were smaller yet somehow seemed more all-encompassing than Madarame’s ever had found their way around his torso, squeezing him back lightly as words were spoken, telling him to keep crying, telling him to let it out.

So he did, in loud wails that seemed to rip from his very being.

He was vaguely aware that he was brought to a nearby police box, Akechi holding his hand as he explained that they would like to speak to a detective regarding domestic abuse and fraud. A blanket was put over Yusuke and he was urged to eat food given to him, the police officers saying that a detective would be there soon and that keeping him from going into shock was the more pressing matter.

Haru had disappeared at some point. She’d probably gone to school, as she should have. She was continuing on with her own life.

He was vaguely aware of a man in a suit talking to them. Akechi did most of the talking, occasionally nudging Yusuke to answer or show the damage to his hand and the now almost gone bruise on his arm. Akechi’s cell phone was passed over the table between them, the photos of the locked room displayed on the screen. The man in the suit said he would file for an investigation to be enacted, but that officers had already looked into the atelier in the span of time since that morning and it seemed that Madarame himself had gone on the run.

He was vaguely aware of Akechi asking about what would be done about Yusuke’s living situation, pushing that he be put into protective custody. The man in the suit insisted that it was unnecessary and that a temporary apartment would be arranged, but Akechi kept pushing. Eventually, in a fit of exasperation that Yusuke hadn’t seen from him before, he announced that Yusuke would stay with him until things were sorted out better, saying that if the police wouldn’t protect Yusuke, he would do it himself.

He was vaguely aware of him and Akechi in the back of a taxi together, Akechi once again taking his hand and he found himself resting his head on the other boy’s shoulder, exhausted from the emotional strain of the last couple days.

He was vaguely aware of Akechi guiding him through a door. Akechi flitted around the apartment, explaining where things were as Yusuke only half comprehended the words. Food was offered to him only to be turned down.

He was vaguely aware of soft blankets being pulled over him and a pillow beneath his head as he faded out of the day that he wished so desperately to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned to upload this until I was done with chapter 4, but that chapter is kicking my ass and I felt bad making people wait.
> 
> The next chapter will be a little happier, Haru will get more development, and Sae will be making an appearance!


	3. Chapter 3

In recent months, Akechi had begun to hear his name accompanied by “Detective Prince”, a title that he felt both didn’t fit him yet at the same time fit a little too well. The illegitimate son of a politician who had recently announced his run for Prime Minister. The boy who had drifted from one foster home to the next until only a year earlier, when he’d made enough through part time jobs to move into a studio apartment that he often struggled to make rent for. Especially as of late, with time being used for TV appearances that paid little and investigations that didn’t pay at all, money had been even more tight than usual. It was a bump in the road though. A test he had to overcome in order to attain his goal. Notoriety was more important than wealth.

That said, however, the sudden addition of another mouth to feed was going to be a difficult thing to compensate for. As far as he was aware, Yusuke didn’t have any sort of income of his own, and forcing him to start a job now of all times seemed like a poor idea given the boy’s obviously strained mental state.

Yes, money would certainly be a worry. But even so, Akechi felt an unfamiliar protectiveness over Yusuke that wouldn’t let him abandon him despite the inconvenience.

What an odd thing.

This was the thought that swam in his mind as he stared into the fridge which held little more than half a package of tofu and a collection of various sauce bottles.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and texted his manager at the bookstore, asking if it was possible for him to take more shifts that usual in the coming weeks. If she declined, he would likely have to see about getting a second job. At least he didn’t have to worry about investigating Madarame anymore. The physical evidence of the plagiarising was gone, but at least they still had the photos and the police had said they would make a public statement on the matter after speaking with Yusuke once more. All that was left was for the man to slip out from wherever he was hiding, then Akechi could reap the rewards of being the detective to reveal his misdeeds so long as the police didn’t take the credit first. Perhaps he should see about speaking to a reporter beforehand in order to make sure credit was given where it was due.

A groan came from the other side of the room and he looked over the see that Yusuke had rolled over in the bed, now facing him with eyes bleary and blinking as if to correct themselves. He quickly walked over and knelt down to address him properly. “How did you sleep?”

All he received in response was a groan.

Akechi was just opening his mouth to say something else when the phone in his pocket buzzed, calling his attention. A response from the manager, saying that the store had already hired their summer staff so it was unlikely they could give him too many more shifts, but that someone had called in sick at the last moment and he was more than welcome to come in right away in order to cover. He had already been scheduled for that afternoon, so the extra shift meant he would also receive overtime, but standing for that long on an empty stomach was not going to be fun. Clicking his tongue, he tapped out a response saying he would be there soon and slid the phone back into his pocket.

“I have work,” he explained to Yusuke, who had silently watched the short exchange. He stood, grabbing up his briefcase and moving to put on his shoes. “I’m afraid there’s not much to eat here, but I’ll try to bring something back tonight. There’s an extra key on top of the fridge if you want to go out for a while.” Shoes on, he stood to look back at Yusuke as he finished speaking and found he was still being watched. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind to give the boy a goodbye kiss. He quickly shook it from his head, questioning its very existence. Their relationship had already become far too familiar for his liking. He had learned in the past not to develop close relations; getting attached to people never turned out in his favour.

Getting close to someone for the purpose of utilizing their assets, well, that was another matter.

Chasing the thought from his mind, he closed and locked the door behind him.

* * *

After about an hour of staring blankly at the door, Yusuke reasoned he should probably get up. Wearing the blanket like a cape, he dragged himself the short distance to the kitchenette and searched through cabinets until he found rice, putting a small amount on to cook.

Easy to make, easy to eat.

Next step: shower. He was still wearing the same clothes from two days ago which he quickly began peeling off in revulsion the moment he was inside the small room, only to catch his reflection in the mirror and pause. He looked horrible, hair a greasy mess and heavy bags under his eyes that were still slightly swollen from crying.

Disgusting.

Quickly, he grabbed up a towel and hooked it on the edges of the mirrored cabinet, blocking the vision of himself, then stepped into the standing shower and turned the knob as far as it would go, only turning it back down when it started to burn against his skin. It only took a few minutes for dizziness to overtake him, bracing himself against the tiles before sliding down into a sitting position. It wasn’t until the rice maker beeped that he realized how long he’d been slumped there, absently letting the water wash over him. Standing after sitting so long just made his more lightheaded than he had been in the first place.

Figures.

At the foot of the bed was a small black suitcase that held everything he now owned. A few changes of clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, and a couple books. He had always been frugal, Madarame had raised him to be such, but it still hurt to realize just how little it was. At least there was still a small amount of his art supplies at the school, he reasoned. That was the important thing. Even the sketchbook he had been halfway through filling had been taken, but he could always fill another one.

Baby steps.

* * *

The neon lights of Crossroads’ welcome sign dug their impression into Akechi’s retinas, causing him to barely notice the quirked eyebrow the woman standing behind the bar gave him as he entered. “Ichiko-chan, your rat’s back,” she said to a smaller woman who was bent over what looked to be a glass of whiskey.

She turned to look at him, confusion that may have been partially caused by the alcohol showing in her expression before she burst into a wide smile. “Hey!” she slurred loudly. “There’s my little snitch!”

“I would really prefer kinder nicknames,” he replied, taking a seat beside her and silently thanking the fact that he was able to be off his feet after standing behind a till for almost half the day.

The woman downed the remainder of her drink in one go. “Lala-chan! Another for me and one for the kid!”

“Another Manhattan and a juice it is,” Lala nodded, turning around to busy herself.

“Now,” Ohya said firmly, turning her gaze back to him. “What have you got for me this time?”

He eyed the washed up tabloid reporter warily, only half aware of their drinks being placed in front of them. She had been useful to him a number of times in the past, putting out tell-all articles about the cases he’d aided in and helping to spread his name. “I have some terms this time,” he said, watching Ohya almost visibly sober as she pulled out a small notepad. “The first is that you’re to publish the information I’m going to give you as two separate articles; I will specify what is allowed in which. The first will be released after the formal police announcement, and the second at a later date that I will tell you once I know it myself. This is so that I don’t end up in front of a firing squad for releasing confidential information again, I hope you understand.”

Ohya nodded, extracting a second pen from the belt around her waist. “Black ink for the first article, red for the second,” she explained. “What else?”

Akechi hesitated for a moment before saying, “My name is to stay out of the first article.”

She quirked her head to the side, obviously questioning his unusually humble request. “...Alright.”

“Third,” he continued, “is that I require financial compensation.”

“Huh?! That’s never been a requirement before! Aren’t I helping you just by writing about you?”

“No money, no story.”

She clicked her tongue. “Fine. Is there anything else?”

“No, that’s all. Now,” he began, curling his fingers around the glass in front of him. “Have you heard of the artist Madarame?”

* * *

“I can sleep on the couch,” Yusuke said over the prepackaged dinner Akechi had brought home. As soon as he had come through the door at a quarter past eleven in the evening, he had dropped the plastic bag onto the floor, crossed the room, and flopped face first onto the bed with a groan.

Now, Akechi looked up in response to Yusuke’s statement only to shake his head and turn back to his food. “You’ve been through a lot, it’s important you rest and let yourself recuperate. Besides, you’re the guest.”

Yusuke furrowed his brows. “I’m saying I should take the bed _because_ I’m the guest. I’m already imposing.”

“As the host, I insist.”

“As the host, you’re already paying to feed me. You’ve been at work all day, you deserve the bed.”

Akechi stared at Yusuke for a beat before sighing, placing down his food. “We’re not going to get anywhere like this. We can alternate who sleeps where.”

After giving it a moment’s thought, Yusuke nodded. “You’re taking the bed tonight though.”

“...Fine.”

* * *

Something about how the school day proceeded the same as a thousand before it felt odd after the jolting change that had happened over the weekend. The lessons that dragged on and on almost seemed comforting now, a reminder that the world had not shifted as drastically as it felt. The monotony that he had so long dreaded was now a welcome friend.

When the students were dismissed for lunch, however, Yusuke barely stirred. He had no food this time, nor a sketchbook to occupy himself with. Instead he pulled out a novel he had picked up at the school library that morning: a sci-fi set in the distant future, a complete departure from the much more classic literature he usually prefered. It was the furthest thing he had been able to think of from his current situation.

He was partway through a description of the protagonist’s star cruiser, considering how he would translate the idea to paper, when a he heard a flowery voice at the front of the room ask “Is Kitagawa-kun here?” Looking up, he saw Haru standing in the doorway as she spoke to his classmate, watching as she noticed him and smiled. “Nevermind,” she said lightly and passed the small boy, walking over to Yusuke and taking a seat in the vacated desk in front of his own. “I wasn’t sure if you would have a lunch today, considering everything,” she explained as she set down what was presumably a bento box on his desk and began untying the pink fabric covering it that was decorated with daisies and ladybugs, “so I made one for you as well as my own this morning.” She beamed, meeting his astonished gaze.

“You- You really didn’t have to concern yourself with me. You’ve already been more than kind…” he stuttered out as she placed the box on top in front of him. It was a simple plastic one featuring a cartoonishly drawn rabbit with pink ears.

“Oh nonsense, I wanted to. To be honest, I got my paycheque Saturday evening and splurged on lunch foods; I’ve been dying to try making all the cute little side dishes. You’re my taste tester.” She opened her own box as she said this, revealing octopus sausages and onigiri made to look like pandas among other things. Or at least, Yusuke thought they were supposed to be pandas. Most of it, despite the obvious effort put into it, looked a bit haphazard and unpracticed.

Opening his own, he found it to be almost identical. He laughed slightly, taking the set of purple chopsticks she handed to him. “It’s adorable.”

She beamed, seeming to be about to dig in before she let out a small “oh!” and clapped her hands together. “Your phone number! I was wondering if we could exchange contact info?”

He was just about to reply with a smile of his own when he noticed the whispering. It only took a slight glance over to notice that more than one group of friends were leaned over their pushed-together desks, speaking in hushed voices as they side-eyed him and Haru. The notion of what it probably looked like, on top of the reputation he had as a loner, hit him in an instant. He lowered his own voice barely above a whisper, looking down at the food in front of him as he said, “I should really clarify before this gets any further: I apologize if I’ve unintentionally given signals that suggested otherwise, but I’m not romantically- I mean, you’re not- It’s not that you’re not attractive it’s just that _I’m_ not attracted to girls and- Um.” He locked his gaze more concretely downwards, feeling his cheeks heat at the panicked confession. He was fairly certain he had never actually told anyone before that he was gay. Oh dear.

There was silence for a moment before small giggles erupted from the girl in front of him, quickly turning into laughter that she had to smother with her hands. He looked up at her incredulously, seeing an almost giddy look in her eyes, before she leaned forward and exclaimed in a voice just as small as his, “I’m a lesbian!”

He stared at her for a second before breaking out into laughter of his own.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize it would seem like I was coming onto you! I was already pretty sure about you,” she said as she wiped at her eyes that had started watering from her giggling.

Yusuke gave her a questioning look.

“Call it a hunch,” she smiled. “Anyway, truth be told, I thought you were nice and that you might need a friend who has an idea of what you’re going through.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was disowned and kicked out two months ago,” she said as if she was talking about the weather. “My father tried to force me to marry an abusive, misogynistic asshole for the sake of his own financial gain. The engagement lasted far longer than it should have.”

“Oh goodness…”

She shrugged. “It is what it is. It let me finally see that he didn’t care about me unless I was useful to him.”

He gaped, the words stabbing into his heart as he realized how much they fit him as well.

Almost as soon as Haru had said it, she seemed to realize her mistake. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching a hand forward to grasp his that had started to curl into a fist on the desk. “I shouldn’t have said that, I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said with a gulp. “It’s something I need to accept.”

* * *

For both the second time in a week and the second time in his life, Yusuke found himself in a police station, though at least this time he had made his way there himself. The odd looks from passersby as he had entered the building did not go unnoticed, however. Thankfully, Akechi was waiting for him shortly inside the door, raising a hand in greeting. “You said you worked something out…?” Yusuke asked as he walked over, nervously glancing at a small congregation of officers nearby. Innocent as he was, police had that quality of always making one review every small misdemeanor they’d ever committed.

“Yes, there’s a prosecutor who owes me a favour,” Akechi said proudly. “She’s agreed to review your case and she is a woman who is very hellbent on winning, so I think she’s prove to be a valuable asset. She should be down any minute now.”

He glanced down at his watch just as a woman in a grey suit came out of a door near the back, looking around the room before seeming to notice them. “Punctual as always. You must be Kitagawa-kun. Sae Niijima, public prosecutor,” she introduced, handing him a business card. “I’m sorry to have you meet me here rather than at my office, but the detective heading this case is being obstinate about not letting the files leave the building until Madarame is apprehended. I’ve been reviewing them upstairs. If you’ll come with me,” she gestured to the door she had just emerged from and Akechi wasted no time walking through it, guiding them towards and elevator as if he was as familiar with this place as he was his own home. Yusuke followed timidly behind.

Once out of the elevator, however, Sae took the lead as she guided them into a small room with windows on all sides that held only a table and a set of padded chairs. “Before we begin, would either of you like anything to drink?” Sae asked as if following a script, moving around the room and lowering the vinyl blinds so that they were blocked from prying eyes. Everything was a setup to make the person being questioned feel more comfortable, an act to illicit feelings of security.

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” Akechi said as he took a seat, once again seeming completely familiar with the situation.

Yusuke stayed standing. “Just water for me, please.” Much as a coffee would have been nice, he doubted the caffeine would help his already growing anxiety.

With a nod, Sae exited the room. Akechi turned to look at him as soon as the door was closed. “Are you doing okay?”

“...Yes,” he replied, finally crossing the room to sit in the chair next to Akechi. The other boy had taken the one closer to the door, he noted.

“Niijima-san can be intimidating, I know, but she won’t force you to continue if you start getting overwhelmed. Just let me know if you need a break.”

Yusuke nodded.

A moment later Sae re-entered with two cups in hand, this time locking the door behind her. “Now,” she said, placing the cups as well as two sugars and a cream in front of them and taking a seat in the chair across from them, folding her hands in front of her on the table. She met Yusuke’s gaze as she continued, “Before we begin, I should let you know that the police commissioner has approved for this case to be made public, with the intent being that it will help flush Madarame out of wherever he’s hiding. Due to your age, your name will of course be kept out of it, however people familiar with him might still approach you with suspicions of your involvement. For the sake of the eventual trial and as your lawyer, I ask that you avoid saying anything. That goes doubly for you, Akechi-kun. No more TV spots unless I give you prior approval, understand?”

Yusuke gave a questioning look to Akechi who avoided his gaze, simply nodding in response to Sae’s accusation as he stirred the sweeteners into his coffee.

Sae in turn gave Akechi a pensive look for a moment before sighing and reaching for a folder that had been sitting to the side. “Alright, then. Let’s begin.”

* * *

Akechi watched Sae’s hand scrawl words across the pages in front of her, switching occasionally between writing small notes in the margins of printed documents and larger comments on the legal pad she kept separate. Unlike before, this time Yusuke did most of the talking, Akechi himself only speaking up every so often to offer small details that were missed. The boy had been doing noticeably better over the course of the last few days, a point that Akechi had inquired about the night previous, receiving the answer that he had apparently become closer with that girl who had helped him that night Madarame had kicked him out. That knowledge had come with an annoying wedge of jealousy that had planted itself in Akechi’s chest.

“In regard to the lock,” Sae said, placing down her pencil as she finished the note she’d be jotting, “if it comes up at all, I want you to say that it was left unlocked. Claiming that it was faulty or that you somehow obtained a key would be too easily proven false. Under no obligation are you to reveal that it was picked, do you understand?” Again, she turned to Akechi as she finished her statement.

“Yes, of course,” he said in a tone that didn’t belie his amusement.

She stared hard at him for a moment before continuing, “If you wouldn’t mind stepping out for a bit, Akechi-kun, there are a few more matters I’d like to discuss with Kitagawa-kun privately before we finish for the day.”

Akechi stood with a nod but noticed Yusuke immediately tense at the prospect of being alone. “It probably won’t take long, I’ll wait by the entrance,” he assured. “Remember what I said; you can always stop if it starts to become too much.”

He looked at Sae as he said this, who nodded in agreement. “Of course.”

Without another word, he exited the claustrophobic room and made his way back to the elevator. Making sure it was empty before entering it, he hit the button for the third floor rather than the ground. Once out, he made his way into a nearby bathroom, removed and donned a thin grey hoodie that he had stowed in his briefcase earlier and left said briefcase in a stall.

Down the hall, he passed closed offices that mostly had their blinds drawn, the few who didn’t not even noticing that the person passing didn’t have clearance. Incompetent fools, the lot of them.

There, second door from the end of the hall, labelled clear as day, was the evidence room guarded by nothing more than a four-digit electronic lock. It took barely more than a glance to figure out the passcode: the one, three, seven, and nine keys were all noticeably worn. 1973. The door beeped and he opened it as if it had never been locked in the first place. Pitiful.

The evidence room was a small one, specified for cases the precinct was currently working on. Once the cases were solved or deemed cold, they would be moved to the much larger room in the basement, but that just made things easier for him. He had browsed through case files barely a month ago and memorized the number for what he needed: a case that had run dry with little evidence save for the weapon. Rarely checked, bound to be moved to the basement before long. From there, it had just been a game of waiting for his opportunity to come down here.

He located the box labelled with the correct number and pulled the gun from it with gloved hands, checking to make sure there were at least a couple bullets still loaded before slipping it under the hoodie. Once he was back in the bathroom, he would stow it in his briefcase that no one but him ever opened.

Candidates for the federal election would begin their campaigns in roughly half a year. Now it was just a matter of time.

* * *

Waiting was a boring, tedious thing and it took only a few minutes of doing such before Akechi was pulling his phone from his pocket and running a search for news articles mentioning him, trying to suppress his disappointment as he saw that there was only one. “The Rise of Vigilante Justice: Blessing or Curse?” A short editorial speaking of his own recent rise to stardom as well as a recent incident involving a respected high school gym teacher. The man had been found beaten, bound and gagged in an equipment room next to a recording of him confessing to sexual assault and physical abuse of his students. The culprits behind it had yet to be identified, the teacher only being able to identify that they had been wearing masks and had obscured their voices. How unseemly to be mentioned alongside such a vile form of “justice”.

Thankfully, his growing annoyance was quashed by Yusuke finally returning, Sae at his heels. “If you think of anything else that might be of use, don’t hesitate to contact me,” he watched her say from across the room.

“Of course. Thank you for all your help.”

She nodded, turning and disappearing back through the door they had just come out of, and Yusuke looked around for only a moment before noticing Akechi and approaching. “I apologize for the wait.”

“No need, I got some reading done in the meantime.” Not a lie, though frankly he would have preferred to not be aware of that article. Or rather, for it to not exist in the first place. “Did you have anything else you wanted to do before we headed back home?”

“Actually,” Yusuke said as he held the door open for him, “on my way back from school the other day, I happened to pass someone handing out coupons for movie tickets. I assume it’s some sort of promotion. Would you like to see something?”

After a moment’s surprise, Akechi agreed and soon the two were boarding the train that would take them to the correct area. It was a bit out of the way insofar as heading home was concerned, but that was beside the fact. It turned out to be a small theatre, showing one movie at a time on its single screen, the next one set to play being one that neither boy was familiar with. Well, that was fun in it’s own way and, with the coupons, it was dirt cheap. Akechi had no complaints. As it happened, there was only a small handful of other customers and thus allowed them prime seating, Yusuke babbling about how framing in film utilized a more active method of the same psychological theories as traditional art as they waited for the trailers to end.

Part way through, as the main character on the screen was being confronted by the character whom Akechi suspected to be secretly working for the antagonist, he felt a hand touch his own only to quickly jerk away. Looking over, he saw Yusuke with his hand drawn upwards as if burned. A moment’s consideration found him reaching over, twining their fingers together and resting both hands back down on the armrest between them, keeping their eyes locked as he did so. Cogs visibly turned in Yusuke’s mind, hesitant. In the end it was Akechi who closed the gap between them, crushing their lips together with more intent than he had had that day in Madarame’s atelier.

In the end, he failed to confirm whether or not he had been right about the character.

* * *

The news about Madarame made headlines two days later, accompanied by an unfortunately large amount of people, journalists and schoolmates alike, approaching Yusuke in an attempt to glean more information. With his homeroom teacher’s permission, he spent a few days sequestered to the art wing during regular classes where the prying eyes were at least lesser though not absent. The fact that the school had a large art department meant that a large portion of the student body had been fans of Madarame’s, and the news of his plagiarism came with a good percentage of people who denied the allegations, claiming that such a great man could never do such a thing.

Yusuke could practically feel the progress he had made quickly melting away, but he did what he could to once again adjust.

Remaining his comrade in arms, Haru joined him for lunch in an alcove under the some stairs where they were difficult to notice.

After school was in turn spent in an art room, using school issued paints on school issued canvases until the sun began to set over the buildings in the horizon. By that point in the day, the streets and trains were more empty, lacking the throngs that occupied them in the afternoons.

On days that he worked, Akechi would usually arrive home around the same time as Yusuke and the two would share their usual small dinner before switching to reading or sketching. Akechi’s job allowed him to bring home books for a period of time so long as no noticeable damage was done to them, so Yusuke found himself drawn in by the ever changing selection. In the days since the movie theatre, however, the two boys had changed from splitting off while reading to sitting or lying side by side, sometimes even partially on top of one another. The previous debate over sleeping arrangements had recently made itself unnecessary, with the bed finding more use in general.

It was a simple existence but, as the weeks passed, it was one Yusuke found he could get used to.

* * *

Sae sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to ward off a headache as she tried to mentally sort the information she would need for court that afternoon. The questions to ask the witness who had seen the accused at the scene of the murder, the evidence pulled from the autopsy, the testimony that offered the most likely motive. It was an easy win, the type that hadn’t worried her since her rookie days, but her mind was wandering as her eyes drifted once again to the mostly empty box of files labelled “Madarame”.

That case had been mostly cast from her mind for the past month. There hadn’t been any leads on Madarame’s whereabouts since a few days after the investigation started, when the truck he’d rented to take everything from the atelier in the middle of the night was found ditched on a highway half a day’s drive out of the city. News outlets had been given instruction to call for public cooperation with finding him, but nothing but false leads had come and their frequency had dwindled to nothing as interest had waned. For as much as she felt for Yusuke and wanted to help him, there was no case if there was no one present to accuse.

At least, that’s how it had been until last night. She had been just drifting to sleep when she’d gotten a call from the inspector heading the investigation that they’d confirmed Madarame on a security camera in the Minato Ward, only for officers the who had rushed to the location to fail to locate him. Yusuke as well had been called and informed. The inspector assured her that they didn’t think he was in danger but would place a mark on him to be safe. In all likelihood, she was told, Madarame would be apprehended within the week without incident.

She only hoped it would go so well.

* * *

He pulled the hat down lower over his eyes, watching from a distance as students filed through the school gates, heading their different directions as they left for the day. It was already the fourth day he was doing this, scanning the faces of every teenager as he searched for Yusuke amongst the crowd. Had he not been going to school or had he just missed him? Or perhaps he had been staying late. The man had unfortunately been unable to watch for extended periods of time, security already rounding on him once, though luckily he’d been able to make his escape before they had reached him. How many more days could he keep this up before it became too dangerous?

His fears were abated as he caught sight of him, the boy hurrying along with a nervous glance at his phone. Yusuke passed right by the man, not even noticing as he fell into step a few meters behind, keeping an even pace so as not to lose sight of him. Staying unseen on the train was an easy feat thanks to the crowd of students and he only needed to fall back a bit further once Yusuke hurried into a more deserted residential area. The building he entered was a small, old apartment with no security system to stop him from following.

It was almost too easy.

* * *

Yusuke hurried to unlock the door to the apartment, letting it swing closed on its own behind him as he rushed to the set of drawers that held his clothes. He had managed to get a job at a cafe halfway between school and home, with that afternoon being his first proper shift now that he was done training. However, despite providing aprons with the restaurant logo, the job required staff to provide their own uniforms comprised of a standard black trousers/white dress shirt combination. He hadn’t noticed until near the end of the school day that he’d forgotten to bring it with him that morning, the extra trip home meaning that he would be cutting it close to the time he was meant to start.

He located the two piece outfit quickly, luckily having left it near the top after his training shift a few days earlier, and turned to rush back out only to stop in his tracks.

Madarame was standing in the open doorway.

It felt like a dream.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head.

“Yusuke… My boy…” the man said, taking a few steps towards him and he immediately responded in kind by stepping backwards, only for his back to come in contact with the wall, clutching the clothes tightly against his chest as if they would somehow act as a shield.

This had to be some sort of nightmare. But the phone call the other day… He _had_ been told Madarame had been spotted nearby. He had gone into denial, pretended everything was still okay. He should have been more careful. Why hadn’t he been more careful?

“I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved, Yusuke,” Madarame continued, still moving closer. “I took out my stress on you and kept you in the dark about how desperate my financial situation had become… It was wrong of me and I apologize. Please Yusuke.” He was close enough now that he was able to grab him by the shoulders, shorter yet somehow a thousand times more intimidating than Yusuke was. The same cane that he had hit Yusuke with was in his hand, the metal of the staff digging into his arm. “Drop the charges, Yusuke. We can go back to the way things were, forget all of this ever happened. I was a good father to you, wasn’t I? I only did what was best for you, what your mother would have wanted. I always honoured her wishes for you, it was her who helped me enter the art world after all.”

Yusuke felt his brows pull together, confusion leaking into the fear. “My mother…?”

“Yes, your mother!” Madarame said with fervor, a disgusting look of hope appearing on his face. “She was the model for Sayuri! She always wanted you to see her like that! She knew she wouldn’t last much longer, she asked me to make it for you!”

Pieces slid together in Yusuke’s mind. Sayuri was his mother. The painting Madarame had exploited and made so many counterfeits of was of his mother. If what he was saying was true, she had intended for that painting to be for Yusuke, just Yusuke, only Yusuke, and Madarame had sullied it with his greed.

The round protrusion in the bottom of the original. The shape of it that Yusuke had studied for so long growing up, wondering what was hidden under the top coat of paint. Knowing now who the painting was of, what it had represented, it seemed so obvious.

He felt sick.

“...You painted over me.”

“What?”

“Sayuri. The thing at the bottom of Sayuri. The thing the woman in the picture was looking at. The thing you refused to ever reveal. It was a baby, wasn’t it? It was me…!”

“Yusuke-” Madarame finally let go of Yusuke, but in his state of shock at the realization on top of everything else, he couldn’t run away.

“You never cared for me! NEVER!” he spat out, staring at Madarame’s shoes. They were polished high grade leather. “Financial issues” he had said. What a joke. Yusuke pulled himself taller so that he towered over the man, shaking with anger. “ALL I WAS TO YOU WAS A TOOL, RIGHT?! NO DIFFERENT FROM A PAINTBRUSH TO BE THROWN AWAY WHEN I EXHAUSTED MY USEFULNESS! YOU NEVER GAVE A DAMN ABOUT ME, NOR ANY OF YOUR OTHER PUPILS! AND AFTER WE ALL RESPECTED YOU SO MUCH! AFTER WE SAW YOU AS A FATHER…!”

This time it was Madarame’s turn to step back, a hand slipping into his pocket as he did so.

“You are a wretched man!” Yusuke continued, voice dropping lower, threatening. He could feel all the frustration and confusion and hatred finally escaping. He could feel fire in his eyes. “Drop the charges? Never. I will do everything I can to make sure you spend every remaining hour of your life behind bars, regretting what you did! I WILL MAKE YOU FEEL EVERY OUNCE OF PAIN I DID!”

He barely had time to register Madarame’s hand swinging up, the flash of bright steel gripped between his fingers, before there was the sound of a gunshot.

The man standing before him crumpled to the ground, revealing Akechi standing wide eyed by the door, a gun smoking in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized back when writing the scene where Akechi and Yusuke find the Sayuri copies that, without the Metaverse, Yusuke wouldn't find out the truth of Sayuri and his mother. The last scene is my attempt to remedy that a bit since him never finding out ANYTHING just didn't feel right.
> 
> As well, I've come to the realization that there's a LOT more than I expected that needs to be wrapped up in the last two chapters. Chapter 4, as a result, is either going to be really long or I'm going to split it into two. Either way, I only have about half of it written at the moment, so it'll probably be a bit of a wait.
> 
> For now, you all get to be left with this cliffhanger :3


	4. Chapter 4

Akechi heard the yelling before he had even reached the top of the stairs. Madarame was in his apartment. The gun was hidden in the shoe cupboard by the door. Yusuke was yelling. The gun was in his hand. Madarame was pulling a knife from his pocket. The gun went off. It wasn’t until it was smoking in his hand that he was able to consider where he’d been pointing it.

He was immediately reminded that he had never shot a gun before when he saw that it had missed and only hit the wall, accompanied by the realization that the bullet could have strayed and hit Yusuke instead.

Yusuke, who was looking at him as if he’d just killed a man. Which, to be fair, he almost had. “What did you do…?” he barely heard him ask through the ringing in his ears.

What _had_ he done? This wasn’t what he had meant to happen. This wasn’t what he had been working towards. He found himself taking a few steps back in shock, the gun falling from his hand. This wasn’t what he wanted to go to jail for.

A hand on his wrist stopped him just as he was about to run, pulling him back into the apartment and closing the door carefully behind them, making sure it didn’t slam. “He passed out from the shock,” a low voice said near his ear. “We can fix this.” He watched dumbstruck as Yusuke picked up the gun with his handkerchief, wiping off the handle as he quickly moved back to Madarame and slipped it into the man’s hand instead, slipping the knife back into his pocket. His actions were almost disturbingly calm, but Akechi could see from his expression that he was barely holding it together, putting on a brave face. Looking up, Yusuke met his gaze and gestured to his own shirt as he said, “Gunpowder.”

Gunpowder residue. He would have it on him. He had to change his clothes and wash off his arms and face, but first- “Get back,” Akechi instructed as he walked forward, slipping his hand around Madarame’s and raising the man’s arm before firing off another round into the wall. “I’ll clean myself off. You call the police, then Niijima-san.”

Should he hide the clothes near the bottom of the laundry hamper? Or would the garbage be a better place? They didn’t have time to hide them somewhere outside: neighbours had likely heard the gunshots and already called the police and just tossing the clothing out the window into the alley would be too easily found. And then there was the matter of the gun. He had stolen it from an _evidence room_ , as soon as the police ran the serial number they would be able to pin it on him. He should have found somewhere else, looked into the black market or _something._ He had thought he would be okay taking the fall because his goal would have already been achieved by the time he used it, but now-

“What are we going to say for why he passed out?” Yusuke asked.

Akechi whipped his head back around to look at what was by the doorway, grabbing the handle of an aluminum pot from the kitchen sink. He took the couple steps back over, meeting Yusuke’s eyes again and receiving a hesitant nod in response before swinging it down hard on Madarame’s head, wincing from the sound it made before dropping the makeshift weapon. “Self-defense. Make the calls.”

* * *

“Makoto, could you turn that down?” Sae asked as she rushed across the apartment to grab her ringing phone, hitting the talk button just as her sister lowered the TV’s volume. “Hello?”

Yusuke’s voice came through the speaker, the anxious hitch to his voice immediately causing her to worry. “U-um- Sensei is- I-”

The mention of the defunct artist made her breath catch, remembering the notice a few days earlier about the man being spotted in the city. “Are you safe?” she asked sharply, not waiting for him to sort out whatever he was trying to say.

“...Yes, I think so.”

“Think” wasn’t the most reassuring of words, but it would half to do for now. “Alright, take a few calm breaths. You saw Madarame?”

For a few moments, she listened to Yusuke just breathing slowly. “He’s in our apartment. He’s unconscious.”

Confusion swam in her mind. The phrasing seemed to indicate that he had been knocked out somehow, which only raised a different set of worries. “Have you called the police?”

“Yes. I can hear sirens already,” his voice seemed to stray away from the phone as he spoke, possibly trying to hear better. “I think one of the neighbours might have called before I did.”

“Good, I’m on my way as well,” she said as she snatched up her purse and rushed out the door, half noticing Makoto giving her a confused but concerned look. “Don’t say anything unnecessary until I’m there. Is Akechi-kun with you?”

“Yes.”

“Stay with him, don’t leave the scene until I get there. If the police ask, tell them I’m coming. I’m going to hang up, but I should be able to make it there in fifteen minutes.” With a noise of understanding from him, she put the phone away and hailed a passing cab. In the mid-afternoon rush, the ride took just under fifteen minutes. Under less pressing circumstances, she would have been mentally patting herself on the back for the correct estimate, but the sight of police cars parked with their lights flashing was rarely a comforting one.

“Sorry Miss, you can’t go in there,” an officer stopped her just as she reached the open doorway to the apartment.

“I think you’ll find I can. I’m the residents’ lawyer,” she said crossly, pushing her way passed only to pause at the site in front of her. Madarame was unconscious on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back and a bent pan on the floor near him, seeming to indicate an attack in self defense. More pressing, however, was the fact that an officer beside him was placing a gun into an evidence bag as another took pictures of what appeared to be bullet holes in the wall. Standing in the kitchen were Yusuke and Akechi, the former looking curled into himself with a hand covering his mouth, eyes seemed to be locked on Madarame as the other boy ran a hand up and down his back in an apparent attempt to comfort him.

“Are you boys okay?” she asked, closing the short distance between them. Yusuke jumped slightly at the sudden voice while Akechi seemed to be putting on a calm façade, though it was one that she easily saw through.

“We’re fine,” he said, hand staying on Yusuke’s back. “Neither of us were injured, thankfully.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll need you to explain to me once we’re at the police station-”

“Which of you two knocked him out?” the officer who had been bagging the gun suddenly interrupted, walking over to them.

Both boys made to respond at the same time and she put out an arm to stop them, then reaching into her purse to pull out a business card. “I’m the prosecutor in charge of this man’s case,” she motioned to Madarame, “and I represent these two. May I ask what your grounds are for asking?”

The man looked her up and down dubiously. “As I’m sure you can see,” he asked with an air of annoyance, “the man on the ground is out cold because someone attacked him. Whoever it was is under possible assault charges. I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

She opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted again. “I did it,” Akechi said, his voice calm as both she and Yusuke gave him a surprised look. “Madarame was pointing a gun at Yusuke and I did what I could in order to protect him.”

“Works for me,” the officer said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and indicating that Akechi turn around. He did so without complaint.

“Wait, he-”

“Yusuke,” Akechi said flatly, meeting Yusuke’s eyes and some silent conversation seemed to pass between them for a moment. He then turned to Sae, still saying nothing, but his gaze seemed to carry a message of “Take care of him.”

“Don’t say anything unless I’m present,” she instructed

“With all due respect, ma’am, a defense attorney would probably be more helpful to him,” the officer said, holding Akechi by the arms and leading him towards the door. “The tall one and Miss Lawyer will ride in the other car,” he said to the officer at the door loud enough for her to hear. “Mr Detective Prince’s got some explaining to do.”

* * *

The following hours found the three in a police station, with Akechi treated as an assailant while Yusuke was treated as a victim but questioned nonetheless. The two boys had hurriedly discussed the details of what they would say before the police had arrived, but finding himself in a locked metal room with a two-way mirror made anxiety pulse in Yusuke as he worried over whether he would mess up and have his and Akechi’s testimonies not corroborate each other enough to avoid further suspicion.

Madarame, they were told, was still unconscious, apparently with a light coma. They were lucky that they didn’t have to worry about his opposing testimony, at least for now.

Waiting to be questioned. Waiting to slip up. Waiting for forensics to arrive and deliver the news that they had made a mistake in faking the scene.

But finally, in the wee hours on the morning, they were released with the knowledge that Akechi would be receiving a hearing to discuss the extent of his punishment and likely record after Madarame woke up. Sae, at least, gave them words of encouragement, telling them that they had done well. The taxi ride home was filled with an exhausted and strained quiet, too many questions on Yusuke’s mind that he wasn’t able to ask yet.

When they finally arrived back to that apartment with two bullet holes in the wall that were definitely coming out of Akechi’s damage deposit, Akechi crawled onto the bed and curled himself into the blankets without bothering to change his clothes. Yusuke followed suit, though he _did_ change, figuring his uniform had already been through enough for the day considering he didn’t have the time or spare change to wash it right away. “I think I’ve been to enough police stations recently to last me a good couple years,” he said as he slid in, wrapping his arms around Akechi’s torso and feeling how tense the smaller boy still was.

“I was so sure they would find something and I’d end up staying in a cell overnight,” he shuddered, nuzzling his face into Yusuke’s chest.

Yusuke hesitated a moment before asking, “Why did you have a gun?”

He felt Akechi tense even more before rolling out of his arms, facing the wall instead of him.

“Goro.”

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it and chose instead to reach out and pull Akechi back into him, allowing the boy time to loosen his tightly wound nerves.

Yusuke was just drifting towards sleep when he heard Akechi mutter in a voice quiet enough that it would have been inaudible if not for their proximity, “Have you heard of Masayoshi Shido?”

The name was familiar, but it took him a moment to place it. “The cabinet minister?”

He felt Akechi nod. “I was going to kill him.”

Feeling shock cross his face, Yusuke pulled back so that he could properly look at Akechi. There were tears in his eyes, but his expression was resolute and it scared him a bit.

He decided to drop the subject, realizing just how little he knew about the boy in his arms.

* * *

Akechi picked a stray hair off his jacket, readjusting the lapels nervously as he watched the duo of talk show hosts smile far too broadly on the small screen in front of him. He had appeared on this show three? Four times now? But it felt like the first again, his palms sweating at his sides only to be hastily wiped on his pants as soon as he noticed.

“Two minutes,” a woman wearing a headset said to him.

He had agreed to the appearance weeks earlier with the promise to Sae that he wouldn’t talk about recent cases. Never would he have imagined that he would end up almost shooting someone only days before he would have to go on live television. Live news coverage about his arrest felt more likely at this point.

“Our next guest is someone who you’ve all been asking for us to have back on,” the smiling man announced and Akechi felt his breath catch in his throat. “Please give me a hand in welcoming Goro Akechi!”

Plaster on a fake smile.

Focus on looking relaxed.

He walked forward, waving as the studio audience came into view and immediately searching the faces in the front row until he found Yusuke. The smile became a bit less forced as he took his seat, focusing as much as he could on his boyfriend.

The nervousness abated as the show droned on, the two hosts chatting and joking amiably with both him and the other guest, some up-and-coming idol Akechi wasn’t familiar with but politely pretended to be, having been prepped by stagehands on what her latest songs were. The topics were ones that had been agreed upon backstage beforehand and he found himself able to relax into it, pumping out a couple jokes of his own and delighting in watching Yusuke’s reactions.

“Oh, but have you heard about that Madarame guy?” the idol said to him suddenly, making his smile falter slightly. This hadn’t been in the script.

“Ah yes! He’s been on the news quite a bit recently because of that scandal!” one of the hosts replied, apparently going along with it. “He was finally arrested just the other day, wasn’t he? Akechi, do you have any thoughts on it? I would think this is something that falls under your area of expertise.”

He floundered for a moment, glancing at Yusuke who wore a scared expression that he was afraid mirrored his own. Reaffirming his smile, he said “Well, I have looked into it a bit, yes.”

“Not many details have been released, but I heard a rumor that his victims are around your age actually,” the other host said, indicating Akechi who mentally swore at him. “That has to hit pretty close to home.”

He closed his eyes in what he hoped was a jovial expression to avoid glaring. “It does, yes. Frankly, I can’t say I hold Madarame in any sort of regard after everything that’s happened.”

“Why, it almost sounds as if you’ve involved personally!” How did the hosts still manage to keep up that sickly sweet tone of voice? “Come to think of it, you haven’t mentioned any recent investigations but, knowing you, I’m sure there must be _something_.”

Akechi laughed, trying to brush it off.

“Oh! I’ve got it! You were investigating Madarame! Weren’t you, Akechi-kun? Am I right?” The idol bounced closer to him on the couch, grabbing his arm in what was obviously faked excitement.

He was about to deny it when a small voice in the back of his head reminded me of how much losing the gun had set him back in his plans and how he was already dangling on a thin wire. Especially if it came out somehow that he had been involved in the assault Madarame incurred, it would be a huge blow to his reputation. Maybe, just maybe, he could strengthen his reputation just a bit more before that had a chance to happen.

He glanced at Yusuke sitting in the audience, obviously trusting him, and tried to send him a silent apology before turning back to the hosts and saying “Actually, yes. I was.”

* * *

“Why would you do that?!” Yusuke hissed under his breath, pushing open stall doors one by one to make sure no one else was in the bathroom before turning to face Akechi with a betrayed expression on his face. “Why would you think that you could talk about that?!”

“He’s in custody, saying anything at this point won’t put you in danger.” The expression Akechi wore was hard. Unreadable.

Yusuke could feel tears pricking at his eyes but forced them back. “How does that make it okay? You’re a public figure! Anyone who sees me with you and recognizes me as Madarame’s student will suspect I was involved, how does that not affect me?!”

“Anyone who is able to recognize you as his student would likely _already_ suspect you were involved.”

He sputtered, running a hand through his hair as he paced away from Akechi again. “You still haven’t told me _why_. You looked like you were avoiding the subject, why would you suddenly change your mind?!”

Akechi was quiet for a moment and when Yusuke turned around, he saw that his eyes were cast downward. He would have thought he looked ashamed if he couldn’t see the frustrated expression he wore. “I thought it might help make up for losing… _that_ ,” he said, not having to explain what _that_ was for them to both know what he was referring to.

“That’s another thing you still haven’t explained to me,” Yusuke said, voice low. “And I’m really starting to feel like I’m owed an explanation. A proper one.”

Akechi looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re really making far too big of a deal out of this.”

“ _I_ am? You act as if this doesn’t involve me! You just _exploited me_ for your own gain! After everything I’ve been through, everything with Madarame, how could you think that wouldn’t bother me, Goro?!”

Finally, something resembling guilt seemed to flicker in Akechi’s eyes. “Yusuke, I-” The shrill ring of a cell phone cut him off, causing him to fumble through his pockets before he pulled it out. “It’s Niijima-san. I should really get this.”

“She’s probably calling to reprimand you, and just as well.” Yusuke passed him, walking out the door with a call of “I’m staying at Haru’s tonight.”

* * *

“Here.” Haru placed a bowl of strawberry ice cream in front of Yusuke, who sat teary eyed on her floor, wrapped in the thickest blanket she had been able to find as he watched some sad straight-to-dvd movie that was playing on TV. “Ice cream helps, trust me,” she said as she took a seat on couch behind him with her own bowl, watching a woman on the screen start crying as she talked about some ex who had died. Or maybe she was talking about a dog. Haru wrinkled her nose. “The acting in this is horrible.”

Yusuke sniffled.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Haru asked, only receiving a “no” muttered through a mouthful of ice cream. All she’d gotten was a sudden text from him earlier asking if he could sleep over. When he’d arrived, he’d stubbornly acted as if he was fine until she’d asked if he needed a hug and he immediately had broken down in tears. It had been a very wet hug.

She didn’t really have to ask what was wrong, anyway. She had seen the broadcast of the day’s Future Fortune episode and, between that and the timing of Yusuke’s text, she had been able to surmise that it had to do with Akechi talking about Madarame.

The two sat in silence for a while until odd music unrelated to the movie suddenly started (was that an electric shamisen?) and Haru looked down just in time to see Yusuke pull out his phone, Akechi’s name displayed on the screen. “Hey, no!” She snatched it from his hand before he could hit the answer button and he looked up at her in confusion. “You’re mad at him, right?” she asked.

He nodded.

Without hesitation, she hit the decline button and the music stopped, paying no attention to the appalled look Yusuke was giving her and she shut the phone off completely. “He did something that hurt you. Let him stew over it for a while,” she said, meeting his gaze with her own stern one. “If you forgive him right away, all it’s telling him is that it’s okay for him to do it again.” She handed the phone back to him and watched as he stared at it for a second before returning it to his pocket without turning it back on.

* * *

In the small room softly illuminated by the streetlights outside, Yusuke muffled the start up music from his phone. It was well passed midnight and, in all likelihood, Haru had already fallen asleep, but in the event that she hadn’t, he didn’t want her to hear it. She was right, he _shouldn’t_ let Akechi apologize just yet but, even so, it didn’t seem like he was going to be able to get any sleep of his own until he at least checked for missed calls or texts.

He wouldn’t even read them, he just wanted to see that they were there.

The last few days had left him on edge and with no way to properly vent his emotions. Akechi, despite being his only confidant, had been deviating away from any conversations relating to what had happened with Madarame, and now there was _this._ Logically, Sae was legally bound to client confidentiality and Haru was unlikely to reveal anything if told, but even the thought of talking to anyone else about what Akechi had done felt like a betrayal.

The phone company’s logo danced across the screen for a moment before his lock screen background appeared, the former picture of Sayuri he’d used for so long replaced by a recent photo of Akechi looking sheepish. He had been embarrassed, he’d said at the time, as Yusuke had insisted on carefully setting up the shot so that the composition was just right.

A moment later, the notifications loaded. Four missed calls, three texts.

He wouldn’t read them, he had told himself.

He unlocked the screen and opened the messages.

 

 **Goro:** I wanted to apologize directly, but I understand why you’re not picking up.  
 **Goro:** I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel and it was wrong of me.  
 **Goro:** Text me back when you read this.

 

He really should have listened to Haru. Not responding to someone whose messages you hadn’t read was one thing, but reading the messages and continuing to ignore them, well… A glance at the clock in the corner of the screen revealed that it was nearing four in the morning. Akechi probably wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours anyway…

 

 **Yusuke:** Can we talk about what happened properly? I’ll be home in the afternoon.

 

More accurately, he would be stopping at home in the morning for a shower and change of clothes and just likely wouldn’t see Akechi, knowing that he had a shift at the bookstore. The current weekend signified the start of the summer holiday and, with it, both boys had agreed to focus on work as much as they could so that they’d be able to relax a bit once the semester started up again. Yusuke was unfortunately back to job hunting, though it at least made a valid excuse to avoid seeing his boyfriend for a little while longer.

Unexpectedly, his phone buzzed with a new text after only a few minutes.

 

 **Goro:** Of course, I should be home around 5 o’clock.

 

He fought back the urge to send back an “okay.”

* * *

Yusuke let out a quiet huff as he walked into the sunlight, escaping the fluorescent lights and dusty smell of the underground mall. The small stack of resumes felt heavy in his bag, having only found two stores that had been looking for new staff. It seemed most had already hired a few weeks earlier. Were it not for the factor of money, he would have almost wished that neither would pursue an interview with him. The first place had been an accessory shop that practically reeked of people who self-identified as metrosexuals and the other had a name that sounded more like a sex store than one that sold handbags and belts.

He slid his bag off his shoulder and tried to shrug off his jacket in a way that didn’t look awkward as he walked, his consideration for looking put together apparently not having included consideration for the weather. Waiting at the crosswalk, he debated the likelihood of running into Akechi around central street where the other boy’s job was. It should be fine so long as he didn’t enter the bookstore proper, but he wasn’t sure what time Akechi’s break was at and he knew he liked to peruse the nearby shops during that time, having complained once about how being around the dimly lit books for too long made him feel musty.

When the traffic stopped, he chose to explore a side street instead.

Though still busy what with it being mid-day in the summer, there were considerably fewer people here than on the main street, for which Yusuke was thankful. He had never been one for crowds, often finding the noise and sensation of strangers bumping against him overwhelming. This was manageable. Busy but not crowded. Most of the stores and restaurants that lined it looked to be independent or belonging to smaller businesses, giving it a less commercial feel. Yusuke had to wonder why he’d never walked along here before, flitting in and out of stores to inquire about employment and finding himself more interested in their products.

And then he noticed a “help wanted” sign in the window of a certain store and he practically heard a tiny piece of fate clicking into place. A small hole in the wall art shop.

Less than an hour later, the “help wanted” sign was removed.

* * *

To his surprise, Akechi arrived home before Yusuke. Even more surprisingly, when Yusuke finally walked through the door he was wearing a broad smile. It took a moment for Akechi to push down the sudden wave of jealously at the fact that someone else had been able to make his boyfriend look more excited than he had possibly ever seen him before.

“I got a job at an art supplies store,” he announced, setting his bag down by the door. “They were interested as soon as they saw on my resume that I go to Kosei. I ended up having an entire conversation with the manager about the differences between paint brands; we had a riveting debate about Schmincke versus M.Graham.”

“Ah…” Akechi furrowed his brow as he watched Yusuke move to the kitchenette with a grocery bag in hand, pulling out food items and opening the cupboard that stored pots and pans. He had no idea what either of those names meant.

“It pays a bit above minimum wage and I get a discount on anything I buy myself, plus they have a studio in the back that’s open to staff when they’re not on shift. I’m amazed I’d never heard of the place before. It’s small, but they focus on only carrying quality items _and_ they do orders. Oh,” he paused, looking up from the stove where his hand hovered over the dial for one of the elements. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I picked up ingredients on my way home.”

“I stopped at Big Bang after work, actually…”

“Oh.” Yusuke seemed to consider the ingredients beside him for a moment before putting half of it away, then continued his preparations. “Now. About what happened yesterday.”

Akechi swore internally, having harbored a small hope that Yusuke’s cheery attitude would prevent the topic from being brought up. “Yusuke, I-”

“I don’t want an empty apology,” he interrupted, not looking up from his cooking. “I haven’t forgiven you and, as it stands now, I honestly don’t know if I ever will, but I’d rather not stay mad at you. Frankly, I’ve gone through enough harsh feelings as of late. I’ve had enough of feeling used and lied to by the people I love. I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation, Goro. A proper one.” Finally, Yusuke turned to face him, making a point of meeting his gaze as he asked “Why did you have a gun?”

Akechi looked down at the book he’d been reading, fidgeting with the corner of the cover. He was quiet for a few minutes, mentally running over various lies he could tell but eventually deciding on the truth. “...Masayoshi Shido is my father.” If Yusuke was surprised, he didn’t let it show in his expression. Akechi studied his face, trying to find some hint of a reaction only to come up empty. “I’m his bastard child. He didn’t even know he had gotten my mother pregnant. _I_ didn’t even know until after my mother died and the social workers were trying to find a relative to take me in. My mother had named him in her will, but he refused any sort of contact. He insisted that it must have been some mistake. He denied the fact that I even _existed_. Everything, my whole life ever since, has revolved around trying to reach a point of recognition where he would be forced to acknowledge me, so that he would know exactly what was happening when I shot him. My life is a petty story of revenge,” he finished with a smile that held no warmth.

At last, he could see cogs working in Yusuke’s mind. “That’s why you pursued detective work?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh.  “I didn’t mean for it to be, at first. It was complete coincidence, just me being in the right place at the right time, happening to notice something the police overlooked. But then people started to praise me for it, coming to _me_ to solve things for them and, well…” He said nothing of how he had often found the keys to his deductions through less than favourable means, sometimes resorting to blackmail and falsified information in order to reach the truth. While Yusuke was an artist in the literal sense, Akechi was an artist of deceit and malice.

“You realized it was a way to get Shido to notice you,” Yusuke finished his sentence for him, a statement rather than a question.

He nodded.

“Is that why you approached _me_? Because you realized that Madarame was a public enough figure to gain you notoriety?”

Akechi averted his gaze. “Yes. But, with that said, that doesn’t mean my intentions to help you weren’t genuine.”

He could sense something bubbling under Yusuke’s calm composure, that same anger from the day before threatening to resurface. As he watched, Yusuke closed his eyes and partially covered his face with a hand, taking a few deep breaths before turning back to the stove. “Okay,” he said with an air of finality.

Nothing more was said on the subject. After a span of silence as Yusuke continued cooking and Akechi went back to his book, Yusuke began talking lightly about a romance movie he’d watched at Haru’s that sounded amusingly horrible. A proposal was made by Yusuke that they would go on a date to the little movie theater once he got his first paycheque and Akechi agreed only on the condition that he would be the one to buy dinner.

Later, as he ran his fingers through Yusuke’s hair and felt the other boy’s bare skin against his own, he found himself wondering if he’d made the right choice in telling the truth.

* * *

“Here are your items, I’ve also included a voucher about our upcoming sale. Have a nice day!” Yusuke said brightly, handing a customer their bag and bowing as he bid them farewell. As he straightened, he saw a coworker who was off shift emerge from the back room.

“You seem to be adjusting quickly,” she said, smiling as she approached him. The store was otherwise empty, allowing them to relax their composure a bit.

“I’m enjoying the work,” he replied with a smile of his own. “How goes your piece?” In the few times he’d talked to her, he’d learned that she was often here working on a sculpture when she had free time. He’d glanced at it a few times while in the back himself and found it was a bit too macabre for his taste, though it was otherwise relatively impressive.

“Well, I think.” She brushed her bangs out of her eye, seeming to be looking at something far away for a moment. “I can’t get it to look balanced in quite the way I want it to. I think a break might help, at least for today. By the way,” she looked at him again, her eyes flitting to his neck for a moment as a smirk spread on her face, “I recommend you advise your partner to not leave marks so high. The other managers probably wouldn’t be pleased to see that.”

He clapped a hand to his neck, feeling his face flush as she laughed. Akechi had gotten a bit too used to the high collar of his school uniform, the shirt he was wearing only just coming high enough to cover the hickies when fully buttoned. It must have edged itself a bit lower over the course of the day…

Akechi had a thing about leaving marks. He had said once while half asleep that it reminded him that Yusuke was his.

“If you want, I can teach you how to cover those with make-up sometime. Anyway, I should be going. I already stayed a bit longer than I meant to,” she said, glancing down at a thin gold watch.

He nodded, trying to adjust his collar to go a bit higher. “Have a good day, Kirijo-san.”

“You as well.” She gave a slight wave as she left.

The small size of the store and its placement off the main path meant that oftentimes one employee was enough and, being an independent business, the owners did what they could to minimize costs. Though peak hours still necessitated multiple staff, there were at least a few hours every day where one person was left on their own with only the list of staff phone numbers to aid them if needed. This suited Yusuke just fine though. He had spent a few slower shifts wandering up and down the aisles himself, memorizing the inventory both for the sake of being able to find things faster when asked and for the mental list he was compiling of the supplies he planned to buy for himself once he had enough money to spare. As well, he had asked about policies when he’d started and been reassured by the answer that he was free to read or sketch behind the till so long as he put his items away when customers came in.

That’s what he had been doing for the last several hours: drawing customers by memory after they’d left, a departure from the slightly ridiculous amount he had done of Akechi. Feeling the now almost too familiar scrape of graphite against paper, his mind practically buzzed with the thought of coming in during a day off soon and utilizing the materials allowed to the staff. With the school closed for the summer, he had been steeling himself for the prospect of having no other artistic outlets until September. He had practically wept upon finding out about the back room and its assortment of damaged paint containers, canvases, and the like that were deemed unsellable.

The bell on the door chimed and Yusuke pushed the pad of paper into the space below the counter, saying the standard welcome despite the chatter from the small group entering almost surely drowning him out. Three teenagers who looked around a year or two younger than himself. “And the aliens spread this mist that made all the townspeople _dance_ ,” one of the kids explained, gesticulating wildly while talking about what Yusuke could only assume was some show he hadn’t heard of. Sliding the sketchbook out just enough to continue working once they were out of sight behind a shelf, he half listened as the conversation continued, moving onto some other show that was reaching the end of what sounded like a tournament arc where the main character punched a clown. “Oh hey, this is that brand that that Madarame guy sponsored, isn’t it? Did you hear he got arrested?”

Yusuke’s pencil stopped.

“That was over a week ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but you still hear people talking about it all over the place. Apparently he tried to shoot someone!”

“Dang, digging the nail into his own coffin.”

“Wait, who did he shoot?”

“I don’t think it’s been released. Probably whoever turned him in in the first place.”

“So like, probably whoever was the student he was abusing, right?”

The teenagers’ conversation broke off at the sound of the door to the back room slamming. Leaning against the closed door, Yusuke tried to slow his breathing that had started quickening against his will as he’d listened to them. He had to calm himself as quickly as he could and go back out, compose himself until they left. There was no one else on shift he could ask to cover for him. Even if there were, he would have had to find an excuse for his sudden reaction, having made a point of not telling anyone about his connection to Madarame.

Careful, slow breaths. Count to ten. Walk back out with a polite smile.

After the small group left a few minutes later, not saying anything on the matter of his brief disappearance, Yusuke crumpled to the floor with tears pricking his eyes and his breath once again quickening.

He hadn’t heard any talk of his former teacher since being away from his classmates.

He hadn’t realized how much the public knew.

* * *

“Madarame is awake.”

The words he heard at 5:46AM from the other end the phone were most definitely not ones Yusuke had hoped nor thought he would be waking up to.

“Has he said anything?” he asked hesitantly.

“Nothing of note, so far at least,” Sae said. “He seems to have amnesia. In this sort of incident, it usually doesn’t last for too long though. I would recommend you advise Akechi to start preparing for his hearing.”

He glanced down at the boy snoozing at his side, blissfully unaware as he’d managed to sleep through the phone ringing.

Yusuke swallowed a large lump in his throat. “I’ll let him know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some use has come out of the ridiculous amount of murder mysteries I've watched and read. Also did you know electric shamisen are a thing? Because I didn't until after I wrote that joke and decided to check if they exist. They do.
> 
> SO, the chapter count has officially risen to 6. I had hoped to keep it at five and just have this be a long chapter, but writer's block is unfortunately a thing and I felt bad about not putting a chapter out for so long.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide in this chapter.

“You’re here early,” Mitsuru commented from behind the cash register, not bothering to put down her book. Yusuke just nodded, muttering something akin to a “good morning” that he wasn’t sure was loud enough to be heard as he passed her and walked directly to the back room.

A 30”x40” canvas that had suffered a fall resulting in one side of the frame snapping, which he patched with some packing tape. A shelf of oil paints with cracked lids, dried paint running down the wall behind them from leaks in the bases. Upon opening a few, he discovered that many had partially dried, either from their damaged containers or simple carelessness.

Early that morning, Sae had picked up Akechi from their apartment. By now, as Yusuke sat there in a dingy room with dilapidated painting supplies, Akechi was probably being questioned. Anxiety boiled brightly in his gut, making sure he didn’t forget that something might go wrong and they would end up never seeing each other again, save for through the bars of a prison. Within minutes, it had become clear to him that staying alone in that apartment would do nothing to abate his fears. Books were unable to hold his focus and sketching had become too routine by this point. What he needed was to paint, and so he had come to the art shop.

Madarame had always taught him to be deliberate in his actions. Consider every stroke, every minute detail and how it affected the overall composition, practices so ingrained in Yusuke that he had long forgotten when he last painted just to express himself, just to feel the glide of the brush across the canvas, just to vent and use the colours as an outlet for his emotions.

Betrayal. Confusion. Frustration. Anger. Lust. Hatred. Distrust. _Desire._

Every sentiment that he had been trying to push back, every emotion he detested and deemed shameful, he now allowed to surface, swirling and splashing in a myriad of colours. The green of envy. The blue of sadness. The red of fury. The black all consuming darkness of the dread that had only grown more and more.

Finished, he stood panting with tears dripping from his eyes and paint dripping from his canvas. A formation not dissimilar to an eye stared back at him.

“You can’t keep hiding,” it told him.

The paintbrush fell from his hand with a clatter.

* * *

Another day, another police station. Or at least, that’s how life had felt for Akechi recently. Granted, pursuing a field such as detective work was always bound to lead to such places, but he had always hoped to be on the opposite end of the law from where he now stood. The end that wasn’t at risk of jail time, namely.

“Leave the talking to me unless I prompt you to do otherwise,” Sae said from his side as the two of them entered the building. Due to Madarame’s state, an opposing prosecutor had yet to be hired which was sordidly in Akechi’s favour as he didn’t had the funds to hire a defense attorney. For the time being, Sae herself had agreed to aid Akechi where she was able. He had fully expected her to refuse when he had come practically begging for her help, but she apparently felt some sort of duty to help him.

The two were lead by an inspector who had introduced himself as the one heading the case into a cold, bare room home to nothing but a table and a few chairs, the complete opposite of the room he and Yusuke had previously met with Sae in. There was no coffee to be served here. This was the kind of room that one walked into and immediately felt their muscles tighten. It was a room that screamed Akechi’s guilt at him and yelled at him to confess.

“If you’ll have a seat,” the inspector said, gesturing to the heavy metal chairs across from the one he sat in himself. He waited a moment after they had done so, almost seeming to be sizing them up. Beside him was a large cardboard box which could only be assumed to hold evidence and/or case files. “As you’re aware, Madarame woke up late last night. He has amnesia, granted, but the fact that he’s conscious is probably in your favour. If he’d somehow taken a turn for the worst and died, well, then you’d be under conviction of murder rather than just assault.” He met Akechi’s gaze humorlessly for a moment. “With that said, the fact remains that he currently has no memory of who he is let alone what happened in that apartment, which makes your and Kitagawa’s testimonies all we have to go off of. However, there is something that needs to be addressed.” From the box, he pulled a ziplocked plastic bag holding an all too familiar gun. “We ran the serial number and something pretty interesting came up. The gun is registered to a man named Shigeru Matsumae. Do either of you know why that’s interesting?”

Akechi furrowed his brow, looking to Sae with feigned ignorance.

“The name isn’t familiar, no,” she replied, showing nothing in her expression.

“That’s not surprising. The name only leads to a fisherman out in Izu who was dumbfounded when he was questioned about it seven years ago after this gun was used in a homicide. The actual owner was never found and, in the hopes that some new leads would come in, the gun has since been kept in the main evidence room at Shibuya HQ. So the question is how did a gun that was in a locked evidence room,” he pointed a finger down at the gun, “end up in your apartment?” the finger moved to Akechi.

Akechi kept the confused look on his face, hoping the inspector couldn’t hear how fast his heart was pounding.

Sae, on the other hand, maintained her calm composure as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back, a carefully constructed pensive expression on her face. “Surely someone has checked the surveillance tapes from the evidence room? Frankly, it seems almost sloppy that something as dangerous as a missing gun wasn’t noticed sooner.”

The inspector worked his jaw for a moment, holding her gaze. “As a matter of fact, we did find footage of when it was stolen. However, the perpetrator was wearing a hoodie that masked his face. What we were able to determine is that the person was thin, somewhere between 175 and 185cm in height, and their stature indicates they were likely male. But most interestingly,” again he fixed his eyes on Akechi, “was that it was stolen on the same day that the two of you as well as Kitagawa were at the precinct.”

“Are you suggesting my client was the one who stole the gun?”

“I’m suggesting there’s a good possibility it was _one of them_. Which one, well, that’s left to be determined.”

Akechi felt his fist tighten under the table. Yusuke was a suspect in this now too?

“And what evidence do you have that it couldn’t have been someone else. As you obviously know, I’ve been to that precinct several times and I myself have made comments to staff voicing my concern about lax security protocols. Dozens of people go in and out of those doors every day. It seems to me that what you’re presenting is very broad circumstantial evidence.”

“And I’m to just believe it’s _coincidence_ that the gun turned up in their apartment after going missing on the day they were in the same building it was stolen from?”

“Madarame had connections. I believe you should be well aware of that, _Inspector_ Dojima. It’s possible he could have payed off someone, possibly even an officer as the evidence seems to suggest, to get him a gun.”

“Really Niijima, I’m pretty sure you’re the one reaching here-”

“Where was the gunpowder from the crime scene collected?” she cut him off.

The inspector gave her a cross look but answered, “Gunpowder residue was found on Madarame’s hand and clothing.”

“Where was the gun found?”

“In Madarame’s hand.”

“Excluding the circumstances regarding how the gun was obtained, is there any evidence connecting it to my clients?”

“...Not at the moment.”

“Then do you have anything else to discuss today or is my client free to go?”

* * *

“That man, I swear,” Sae fumed once she and Akechi were back out onto the street, no less convicted than they had been when they’d walked in.

“I take it you’ve worked with him before,” he commented with a hint of amusement to his voice, possibly a result of his relief.

“Once, back when he was just a detective. Let’s say we didn’t exactly see eye to eye and leave it at that.”

Akechi hummed, following the woman as she walked briskly away with a fervor he rarely saw in her, a part of him idly wondering if she could end up changing to a defense attorney in the future.

Flicking out his phone, he hit the button to call Yusuke and waited the beat of two rings before the other boy picked up, his greeting sounding almost strained for reasons that Akechi chose not to ponder. “Niijima-san and I just finished; everything seems to be fine for now, but there are a few thing the inspector said that you should be aware of. Can we meet somewhere?”

“Um… Yes, I was just doing some painting at work. I can be home soon, unless Niijima-san wants to speak with us?”

Akechi cast his eyes to Sae, who was watching the crowd of passersby from a few feet away as if to pretend she wasn’t listening to him. “Hold on,” he covered the speaker, turning to her. “Are you going your own separate way or would you like to speak with Yusuke and I?”

She looked at him pensively for a moment. “I do have some things to discuss, though the extent of that will depend upon the two of you. Are you comfortable with meeting at my own apartment? It will be private,” she assured.

He nodded. “She says to go to her apartment,” he said back into the phone. “The address is…”

* * *

“My sister is on a beach trip with some friends, so we won’t have to worry about her listening in on anything,” Sae said, addressing the pair of boys hesitantly walking through her front door. Yusuke had arrived before Akechi and herself and thus had been idling awkwardly by the entrance being eyed by a security guard who had nothing better to do. “I’ll get some tea ready. The two of you are free to make yourselves comfortable on the couches or at the table. Your choice.”

When had she gotten so caught up in helping these two, she pondered as she pulled a trio of cups from a cabinet. Sure, she had known Akechi for a while now, but she had never been particularly fond of him. Self-important and loose lipped, that was what she had thought of him. But Yusuke… Maybe it was the boy himself and the things he went through and was currently going through at the hands of a man who had manipulated him since childhood. Maybe it was the way Akechi seemed to soften around him, seeming less like a robot who sought only to further himself. Or maybe it was just something about his mannerisms that reminded her of Makoto in a weird way. Whichever it was, it was annoying.

Suppressing a sigh, she carried the tray of tea and a couple cookies from a box Makoto kept stashed behind a bag of flour to where the two had sat on the couch, setting it down and taking a seat herself perpendicular to them. “Before I say anything else, I have a question for you two: what is my profession?”

She moved her gaze from one to the other, watching as they shared a confused glance before Yusuke answered, “You’re a prosecutor, ma’am.”

“Correct, and that means two things: First is that, while I do represent you in matters regarding the charges against Madarame for what he did to Kitagawa-kun, it is not my job to defend you nor have you hired me in any matters regarding what happened in your apartment.” Yusuke seemed to visibly tense while Akechi’s expression remained hard, unchanging. She continued, “Second, as a prosecutor, I’m in the habit of looking for signs that people hiding things. Perhaps I’m just becoming paranoid, but I’m getting the significant impression that you boys aren’t telling the full truth.” Despite his expression still not changing, Sae watched as Akechi took Yusuke’s hand in his own. For whose comfort it was, she wasn’t sure. “As I mentioned, I have no legal obligation to defend you. However, from a personal perspective, I am willing to act as something akin to a confidant with legal knowhow, if you wish.”

Yusuke perked up at her words, looking to his boyfriend as Akechi’s eyes narrowed in obvious distrust. “Assuming that we _are_ hiding something,” the latter said slowly, considering his words, “what reason do we have to trust you? What do you gain from this?”

She smirked. “I gain a more legally trustful testimony in my case against Madarame. From what I’m aware of with the situation, he is much more deserving of serving time than either of you. If it comes down to a choice of who in that courtroom is going to jail, I would rather it be him, regardless of what you’ve done in the process of sending him there. In the end though, the choice comes down to you. If there is something that you’re hiding, I will listen and offer my help.”

The room was silent for a minute, Sae holding eye contact with them as the forgotten tea grew cold. Finally, seeming to come to a decision, Yusuke opened his mouth to speak.

“We refuse.”

Both Sae and Yusuke turned in surprise to look at Akechi. “We refuse,” he repeated, his grip on the other boy’s hand tightening to the point where she had to wonder if it was painful. “Come on Yusuke, we’re leaving.” He got to his feet, Yusuke in tow behind him as he sternly crossed to the door.

“My offer still stands, if you change your mind.”

His hand paused on the doorknob for a moment before he opened it, the two of them leaving without another word.

* * *

“Why did you refuse?! She could have helped us!” Yusuke hissed as they exited the building, the same security guard who had been eyeing him earlier now seeming to watch in amusement before he disappeared from sight.

“She said it herself: she had no legal binding to keep confidentiality. It could have been a trap.” Akechi didn’t look at him as he spoke, eyes fixed ahead of him as he walked a few paces in front.

“Or she could have genuinely wanted to help us! Goro!” he grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You know you’re in trouble,” he said quietly.

Akechi’s eyes darted around them. Only a few other people were on the same street, going about their own business and not seeming to bother to pay attention to a couple of arguing teenagers. “You are too.”

“...What?”

“They found out where I got _that_ from, but the security camera only shows someone roughly my height with their face hidden. Both of us are being considered suspects.”

Yusuke stared dazedly for a moment. “But- How does that tie into Niijima-san? Even if she was trying to trick us, wouldn’t that have cleared me?”

“ _Yes_ , but- We need more time to figure this out, Yusuke. We can come up with something. We could claim Madarame paid someone else to get it for him, I might be able to pull some strings to get an officer to testify he saw someone else matching the description that day-”

“What are you talking about? Pull strings?”

Again, Akechi checked around them to make sure no one was listening. “Just- leave it to me. I know how to get people to say things, I can-”

He broke off at the sight of Yusuke’s expression, shocked and confused. “Are you talking about blackmail?”

“...I’m not saying it’s out of the question.”

Dumbfounded, Yusuke turned away for a moment with a hand pressed to his mouth before turning back. “ _This_ is what you see as the better option, Goro? You’re acting like you’ve done this kind of thing before!”

Akechi said nothing, but averted his gaze.

“...You have. Oh dear god…”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“How is it not?! It’s- How many times do I have to learn you’ve done something- Do you know what would happen to you if it came out?”

“Yes! Yes, I do! That’s why I’m trying to avoid it!”

“By doing it _again_?! By refusing help?!”

“I’m doing what I think is best!”

“Excuse me, boys.” Both jumped, clamping their mouth shut at a sudden third voice and turning to see the security guard. “Is there some trouble here?”

Yusuke’s mouth flapped, searching for words until Akechi spoke for him. “No, sir, it was just a small argument, we’re sorry for the trouble. Come on,” he said to Yusuke, grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

* * *

When a knock came from her door, Haru wasn't surprised to find Yusuke on the other side of it. “What happened this time?” she asked, no poison in her tone.

“Is it really that obvious…?” He walked in and took a seat on her couch, noticing out of the the corner of his eye that she was already opening the freezer, presumably in search of ice cream. It was still a few hours too early for any sort of dinner.

“It seems like every time I see you, something else has gone wrong. Oh- I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she added, apparently noticing the look on his face. “Well, I _do_ wish these things weren’t happening to you, of course, but I’m glad I’m able to be the one you feel comfortable enough to talk to. Is red bean ice cream okay?”

“Yes, I’ll have just a bit. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was putting so much on you.”

“I don’t mind! Really! Anyway, sit. What happened?”

Following her instruction, he took a seat on Haru’s now familiar couch and was soon joined by her and two bowls, trying to think of how he could explain what had happened without saying too much. “I never really told you what happened when Sen- Madarame was arrested, did I?”

“...You didn’t.”

Yusuke nodded slowly, deliberating each word. “The police determined that he found me while I was walking home from school and followed me. He came into the apartment behind me. He tried telling me to drop the charges, grabbing me, and I started yelling, and then Goro got home and… some stuff happened.”

He purposely didn’t look up at her, instead focusing on the ice cream and taking a bite to try to remedy his throat that had started tightening. “I can’t… tell you exactly what happened, but Goro’s in some legal trouble now. We had a discussion with the lawyer who’s been helping us with Madarame today and he ended up refusing her help, which resulted in us having another fight.”

Pausing to take another bite, he heard the clink of Haru setting her own bowl down and shifting slightly so that she was facing him. “How are things going? With Akechi-kun and you, I mean?” When he looked at her, he was almost shocked by the level of concern he saw there.

“We’re fine. We fight sometimes, granted, but a lot’s been going on. And what couple doesn’t have the odd spat? We have dinner together whenever we have the chance, talk about our days, have… our moments of intimacy. We’re fine.”

“Does he come to visit you at work?”

Yusuke looked at her, confused. He had to think about it for a moment. “He has once or twice,” he recalled.

“And you?”

“Have I gone to see him, you mean?”

She nodded.

“Not at all. When he’s able to get breaks depends on how busy the store is, so he’s been unable to tell me a specific time to visit him.”

“You both work in retail, though. There must be some down time you could go visit him when you’re not on shift. Even just within your break time; aren’t your stores only a few blocks from each other? Do you meet up after work?”

Yusuke furrowed his brows. “No, we go home alone. And he would probably find it troublesome if I came to visit him.”

“Why?”

“Well… Wouldn’t his superiors get mad at him for chatting with someone when he’s on shift? And often our shifts end at different times.”

“How different?”

“My work closes at eight or nine depending on the day, his at nine or ten, so when we’re both working evening shifts I pick up something for dinner for when he gets home. Oh, but he does finish before me sometimes on slower days, then he usually just stops for something on the way home.”

“He doesn’t cook for you?”

“No, he’s said he never really learned how. I used to cook for Sensei. I’m used to it.”

“Yusuke, I don’t want to sound negative, but this all feels like you’re making excuses. You could hang around the bookstore until he finishes his shifts then get dinner together and vice versa, and he should at least be helping you if you’re making dinner so often.”

“I don’t mind though.”

“That’s not-” Haru broke off, looking down at her hands as if searching for words. “Does he make you feel appreciated?”

He opened his mouth, ready to say that yes, of course he did, only to pause. “...I don’t know.”

Haru was silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I don’t know, I suppose it’s just that we haven’t really had many casual conversations recently. Which is understandable, of course, we’ve both been under pressure. But- For example, I brought up the other day how I had started a watercolour piece during my breaks at work, and he usually asks questions when I mention my art since he knows it’s something I like to talk about, but he just brushed it off. I suppose that made me feel a bit hurt and- No, nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“...Just, with how I mentioned there was some legal trouble. I’m worried about how much I should say in regard to it.”

“Ah…”

“I suppose… With some of what’s happening, it feels as if Goro doesn’t trust me. We’ve talked about it and he _has_ told me things, but I feel like there’s more to it that he refuses to say. And now that it’s turned into an actual danger to him, it’s beginning to feel like I’m just a distraction for him to use.” He brought his hand to his neck, rubbing nervously at a hickey that was covered by his shirt. It wasn’t something that he was comfortable talking about even with Haru, but his and Akechi’s relationship had become much more physical since Madarame’s arrest and that change had been worrying him. Akechi’s comment about the hickies reminding him that Yusuke was his again came to the forefront of his mind.

“As well, there was one night when I ended up staying late at work due to an inventory error. When I got home, he seemed almost frantic, asking where I had been. The way he said it, it sounded more as if he was worried that I had been talking to the police than if I had been in danger.”

The concern in Haru’s expression deepened. “Why would you go to the police?”

“I wouldn’t! But- There- I… There are things I know that, if I told the police, could get Goro in a lot of trouble.”

“...As your friend, is this something I should be worried about?”

“I’m not in any danger,” he assured. “Especially now that Madarame is in custody. Goro would never do anything to hurt me.”

Haru got up suddenly, picking up both her and Yusuke’s now empty bowls and taking them to the sink, running the water to rinse them. She placed her hands on the edge, staring at the splashing water as she visibly debated something in her mind.

“What is it?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but shut off the tap. “...I’ve mentioned to you that I started interning at Persona, right? That tattoo parlor?”

“The job where you get paid to stab people, yes.”

That managed to garner a small smile from her, though it disappeared again quickly. “Yeah, that. Well, there’s a tabloid stand near it that I passed on my way home from my shift earlier and…” She walked to where her purse had been left on the kitchen table, pulling out a magazine and hesitating a moment before handing it to Yusuke. “Here.”

Of all things he had been expecting to see on the glossy paper handed to him, an apparently candid picture of his boyfriend was not one of them. “Detective Prince strikes again!” it said in large red print across his picture, subtitled with “Tell-all of events leading to master artist Madarame’s recent arrest!” He gaped at the cover for a moment, aghast, before tearing through the pages trying to find the article. “This has to be a mistake,” he said, more to himself than Haru. “It’s a publicity stunt, they probably made all of it up.”

It took no less than a quick scan of what was printed there to confirm their merit, however. Details of Akechi “approaching a long time student of Madarame’s who asked for his name to be withheld,” as if Yusuke had had any participation in the apparent interview and “the shocking discovery of a storeroom full of Sayuri counterfeits.” Details that Yusuke knew for fact the police hasn’t revealed. Details even _Yusuke_ had been unaware of.

“This has to be a mistake…” he repeated.

* * *

“Can I talk to you?” Yusuke asked, the door closing a bit more loudly than intended behind him, possibly a combination of the two sounds causing Akechi to jump slightly from where he stood in front of the open refrigerator.

“What’s wrong? Did someone find something out?”

“Yes, I’d say someone did.” Unceremoniously, he slapped the magazine down onto the counter next to Akechi. “What is that?”

He paused for a moment, closing the fridge door slowly as he stared down at the cover, flipping it to open the article and scanning it for a second before muttering “That self-serving bitch…”

“So you do know something about it.”

“I- Yes. I know about it. I talked to a reporter I know, but that was _months ago_. I told her not to release the article unless I gave her the okay, the fucking-” He pulled out his phone, already starting to dial a number before Yusuke grabbed it from him.

“No, you don’t get to yell at anyone else. Not until you’ve explained this properly. How many times do I have to find out that you’re using this, using _my_ life falling apart, as a way for you to spread your name?! Am I really nothing more than a tool for you exploit and fuck and then throw to the wayside when it comes to our actual _relationship_?”

“Yusuke, you know that’s not true-”

“Are you certain? Because that’s how it’s starting to feel. ‘Months ago,’ you said. You did this interview months ago. Did you ever do anything to make sure it _wouldn’t_ get published?”

“I told her not to publish it unless I told her it was okay-”

“And you seriously thought she’d go with that? With all the media frenzy that’s been going on, you thought a tabloid reporter would just sit on a tell-all rather than using it? You’re not the only one who takes advantage of people, Goro.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“This is my _life_ , Goro. How many times do I have to tell you that? I lost _everything_!”

“Yes, and you’re not the first person to lose everything! I’m doing what I can! I’m trying to build a future for myself! Sometimes that requires stepping on a few toes but, unfortunately, that’s how our society works!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to step on the people you love!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! Fine, yes, I should have done something to stop it! I didn’t! I apologize, are you happy?!”

“Get out.”

“...What?”

“Get out. Go sleep somewhere else tonight. I can’t do this anymore. Not right now.”

“This is _my_ apartment, you can’t tell me to get out!”

“What are you going to do? Pull another gun on me?”

Akechi was silent for a moment, staring hard at Yusuke before finally walking passed him. “You’re a real piece of work, Kitagawa,” he said, the door clicking shut behind him.

* * *

Headlights passed by as Akechi walked, nothing more than his phone and keys on him. In the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten to grab even his wallet and there was no way he could go back for it now. He hadn’t bothered trying to call anyone to stay with for the night. He didn’t interact with anyone else at school, nor any coworkers more than his job required. Aside from Yusuke, the person he was closest to was probably Sae. There was something much too defeating about asking his _lawyer_ if he could sleep over because he’d gotten into a fight over refusing her help. He would much rather find a nice moderately clean park bench. Thankfully, with it being summer, sleeping outside likely wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

Until he grew tired enough for that, he was fine with wandering.

* * *

“Are you alright? You seem a bit out of it today,” Mitsuru commented quietly during a lull between customers.

Yusuke couldn’t argue with her, having miscounted a customer’s change earlier and almost dropped a packet of modeling clay while bagging it. “I’m sorry, a lot happened yesterday.”

“Just try not to- Oh! Hello Ozaki-san!” she broke off, greeting the store owner as he walked through the door. Yusuke immediately felt himself tense, having only met the man a handful of times before.

“Good morning, both of you. Things are going well, I assume?” he said, not fully looking at them as he passed.

“Yes, sir,” both Yusuke and Mitsuru said in sync, receiving only a nod in response as Ozaki entered the back room, closing the door behind him. Along with the small staff studio, the back room also opened into a second room that functioned as an office.

Barely a minute later, another wave of customers entered. Yusuke had mused to himself a few times how one could practically track when trains arrived at Shibuya station by when the short rushes occurred. “Your total comes to ¥2495. Will you be paying by cash or card?” he rang up another customer, thankfully not making any mistakes this time as he went through the now practiced script and ministrations. When the next customer stepped up, he remarked inwardly at the expense of it all, a selection of top of the line products rarely used by hobbyists. Halfway through ringing the items through, he was interrupted by the customer’s remark of “Wait, aren’t you Kitagawa?”

He blinked, looking up and realizing to his horror that he recognized this man. He was a professional artist whose exhibitions Yusuke had gone to a few times but, more importantly, he was a friend of Madarame’s.

Evidently, the look of fear on his face was enough of a confirmation for this man. “You little shit… You’re the one aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry sir, is something wrong?” Mitsuru cut in, suddenly beside Yusuke.

“Something sure as hell is wrong! This is the spoiled brat who’s been slandering Madarame-sensei!” he yelled, then turning back to Yusuke. “How does it feel, lying about the man who viewed you as his son to the point where he’s been arrested?! There’s even rumors that he has amnesia! I bet that was your doing! Probably tried to kill him to gain an inheritance from him or something only for it to go south! Isn’t that right?!”

Other customers had noticed the commotion by this point, watching nervously and a few cautiously exiting the store.

“And now you’re working at art store! Of course you are! Probably used your name to get hired, didn’t you?!” The man kept yelling as Yusuke stood stock still, Mitsuru apparently at a loss for what to do.

The door to the back room opened. “What’s all this commotion about now?” Ozaki asked, hurrying over to the trio.

“This _commotion_ is over one of your staff members being a parasite to the art community! Do you have any idea what this boy has done?!”

Ozaki looked in confusion between the man and Yusuke. “I’m very sorry sir, I afraid I don’t.”

“ _Well_ , isn’t that rich. Trying to fool me into thinking you weren’t trying to cash in on having a pupil of Madarame-sensei’s in your staff, huh? I should have known that such a shit store managing to stay afloat in an area like this had some sort of shady connections!”

Ozaki gave Yusuke an incredulous look. “You’re connected to Madarame-sensei?”

“ _Connected_!” the man continued yelling, the store by now empty of any other customers. “He’s the one responsible for this mess Madarame-sensei has ended up in! Why don’t you ask him yourself!”

“I-I…”

“I’m very sorry, sir. I swear to you, I was not aware of this when I hired him. Would you be willing to keep this quiet is I discount your items?”

“You’d better if you want me to buy them at all,” the man sneered.

With a reduction of half the price, the man finally left with a huff, remarking that he wouldn’t be returning any time soon.

“Kirijo-san, would you mind the store for the time being?” Ozaki said once the door had chimed closed. “I think I need to have a word with Kitagawa-kun.” With a motion for Yusuke to follow, he walked towards the back room with Yusuke following in tow after sharing a nervous glance with Mitsuru.

“Close the door, please,” Ozaki instructed once in the office. “Is it true that you were a student of Madarame-sensei’s?”

“...It is.”

The man sighed, sitting heavily in a desk chair with a hand on his face. “I’ve been keeping up with the articles surrounding the controversy with him. From what I’ve seen, they haven’t released who it was who pressed charges. With respect to your privacy considering the things that have come out about him, I won’t ask you to confirm or deny your involvement in that.”

Yusuke breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

“However. Considering everything, I am going to have to let you go. If that man was able to recognize you, there’s a good chance others could as well. This store doesn’t need more incidents like that and it definitely doesn’t need the kind of reputation it might gain from such.”

The brief feelings of relief vanished. “But sir-”

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I’m willing to negotiate. Finish your shift and then pack up your things.”

* * *

Yusuke sat in the overhang of a nearby store entrance that had already closed for the day, trying to fight back the anxiety attack that had been threatening to overtake him since that man had recognized him. Haru wasn’t responding to his texts, probably busy at her own job, and she wasn’t really the one he wanted to talk to anyway.

He dialed Akechi’s number and pressed the phone hard to his ear, a few tears slipping out. It rang once, twice, three times, and just kept ringing. Finally an automated voice came on, telling him that the number could not be reached at this time.

He tried again, then again, the tears falling freely by this point.

On the fourth time, Akechi picked up.

“Yusu-?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I got mad at you! I’m sorry I said all of those things, I’m so sorry!”

The other end was quiet for a beat, Akechi presumably trying to grasp the change in demeanor from their last conversation. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Near my work. _Former_ work, I suppose,” he sniffled. “Someone recognized me. They found out about Madarame.”

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m nearby; I can be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Hey, Goro?” he said just as Akechi was about to hang up.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“...I love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

And so he waited, clutching his phone to his chest as if it was a precious thing as he noticed it has started drizzling. Hopefully it wouldn’t turn into a storm, he hadn’t brought an umbrella with him that morning and he doubted Akechi had one either.

The sound of footsteps came from the far end of the street and he looked up, the relieved smile on his face quickly dying as, rather than his boyfriend, he was greeted by the sight of a pair of police officers.

“Are you Yusuke Kitagawa?” one of them asked.

“...I- Yes, I am.” Why were police looking for him?

The officer nodded to his partner who walked forward, pulling out a set of handcuffs. “I advise you not to resist. You’re under arrest for assault, theft, and illegal possession of firearms.”

* * *

Quietly cursing the rain, Akechi hurried down the street. If it didn’t let up soon, he would have to see about popping into a convenience store for an umbrella, he reasoned. But first, Yusuke.

Rounding the corner only a few buildings down from the art store, he scanned his eyes around the awnings and doorsteps, expecting that Yusuke would have taken shelter, but saw no trace of him. “Near my work.” Perhaps he had gone a little ways away? Considering he had apparently been fired, it wouldn’t be surprising if he had wanted to avoid any possible awkward conversations with newly-former coworkers. Or maybe he had gone into a nearby cafe to escape the rain.

Surely Yusuke would have told him if he was going to move somewhere else though, yet checking his phone, there were no new texts nor missed calls. More worrisome, when Akechi tried to phone Yusuke himself, he was greeted with an automated voice telling him the device had been turned off or was out of range.

Confused and worried, he entered the art store and looked around, wondering on the off chance that Yusuke had come back in. Still finding no sign of him, he approached the girl standing behind the till. “Sorry that this is an odd question, but do you happen to know where Yusuke went?”

The girl gave him a hard, calculating look. “Why are you asking?”

Ah, Yusuke had mentioned that someone had recognized him. Everything considered, he supposed he should be thankful to her for seeming to worry for Yusuke’s wellbeing. Or maybe it was the store’s reputation that concerned her more. “I’m his roommate,” he explained. “He called me just a few minutes ago and I came to pick him up, but…”

Realization seemed to dawn in her eyes, her expression shifting away from wary but still holding concern. She glanced around the store, seeming to check that there was no one else around to hear before saying, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I saw some police officers talking to him outside a minute ago. There was a bit of a commotion earlier, so if he’s gone now, maybe…” She didn’t finish her sentence, almost seeming afraid to say the words, but she didn’t need to.

His phone was in his hand dialing Sae’s number before he even had time to think about it.

“Hel-”

“Niijima-san, have you heard anything from the inspector we spoke to yesterday?”

“What? No, I haven’t. Has something happened.”

He glanced at the girl who wasn’t even trying to hide that she was listening in. “Can you get in contact with him? I think they might have arrested Yusuke.”

She was silent for a moment. “I have his number. I’ll see what I can find out and call you back when I do so.” The line went dead, leaving Akechi with only questions.

* * *

Metal bit into Yusuke’s wrist as he was switched over to a different set of handcuffs, the chain on these ones looped through a ring on the steel table in front of him. His second time in an interrogation room, his first time handcuffed. A man in gray sat down on the other side, folding his hands and considering him for a moment before speaking. “I’m Inspector Ryotaro Dojima, I’ve been handling the case regarding the assault in your apartment. Do you know why you’re here?”

Yusuke shook his head woodenly. It was a question he had been asking himself for the last half hour. Assault, theft, and illegal possession of a firearm. The first was obviously about Madarame, the last was about the gun, but what about the middle one? He had realized in the police cruiser that, while he had questioned Akechi on _why_ he had had a gun, he had never asked about the how. Maybe a part of him hadn’t wanted to know. If that was what the theft charge was pertaining to, it meant that Yusuke was being suspected of things that were solely Akechi’s doing.

So, when it came down to it, he was likely about to have to make the choice of either turning in his boyfriend or taking the fall himself.

Dojima sighed. “Someone saw you, kid,” he explained, clearing up nothing. “We questioned all the people with offices near the evidence room and one remembered seeing the person in the surveillance footage. When we showed him a line up of pictures, he identified you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“You can plead innocent all you want, we have enough evidence against you. We even managed to lift a partial fingerprint off the gun and guess who it belonged to.”

“I-” Yusuke started to protest but came up short. He had made sure to use his handkerchief when he’d picked up the gun, but he must have messed up somehow in doing so. Admitting it would throw out the falsified crimescene. Did that even matter at this point, though?

“Now in regard to the assault,” the man continued. “Akechi claimed guilt, however, due to the pan used in the assault being from the apartment the two of you share, it had both of your prints on it.

“So here’s how the theory goes: You of course knew that Madarame was still at large and, due to your past with him, you had reason to believe you could be in danger. During the portion of time when you were discussing the charges laid against him at the police station last month, you excused yourself for a short period and stole the gun in a misguided attempt at protecting yourself. Madarame showed up at your apartment, you panicked and went for the gun, a struggle ensued which is when it went off, finally you managed to grab the pan and knock him out. Akechi happened to walk in on this and, wanting to protect you, helped you stage the scene and took the fall for you. That sound about right?”

Yusuke could only shake his head again. His mind was screaming that this was wrong, yelling at him to tell this man that it had been Akechi. But there was more evidence pointing towards himself. But the scenario had been painted to fit what the police wanted to believe happened. But he loved Akechi.

Could he turn him in?

Would doing so even matter?

Dojima looked at him for a moment longer before sighing. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk yet, then don’t. For the time being, you’re gonna be staying with us.”

* * *

The tiny one-room apartment that had felt so cramped for the past two months felt horribly empty. Hours had passed, yet still Akechi had heard nothing from Sae. He had tried distracting himself, but nothing seemed to take. Instead, it was his incessant pacing that was interrupted by the shrill sound of his phone finally ringing.

“Did you find anything?” he said in place of a proper greeting.

“I managed to get a hold of Dojima. An officer who was near the evidence room at the time gave testimony that he saw Yusuke when the gun was stolen. As far as I know, they don’t have much else other than circumstantial evidence, but they’re determined to indict him. I’m sorry, Akechi-kun.”

Akechi gaped, his mind tumbling. This was his chance. He could get away with everything, find a way to get another gun, follow through with his plan to kill Shido, but-

“He’s innocent.”

“I want to believe you, Akechi-kun, but with how the evidence is pointing right now, even we don’t know-”

“I did it.”

-this was his chance to make up for everything.

“...What do you mean?” Sae asked, voice wary.

“I stole the gun. I shot at Madarame because I saw him pulling a knife on Yusuke. I framed the scene to make Madarame look guilty. I did it.”

Sae was silent on the other end for a few moments, then Akechi heard her take a deep breath. “Listen. I know you care about Kitagawa-kun, but lying isn’t going to-”

“I’m not-”

“Even if what you’re telling me is true, the evidence they have, regardless of it’s validity, points to Kitagawa-kun.”

“But if I tell them-”

“Akechi-kun. You need to think about how the police are seeing this. Kitagawa-kun is a no-name to the public, while you’re a known figure whom the police have publically put their trust in multiple times. It doesn’t matter what you say. Convicting you will make them look worse than convicting him. Considering it was a police officer who gave the testimony, they’ve likely already thought about and decided this. There’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.” The call cut out.

Numbly, Akechi’s hand dropped to his side, barely noticing the phone fall from it as Sae’s final words rang in his ears.

Yusuke was going to go to jail for crimes he didn’t commit.

Akechi was going to go free despite being guilty.

“There’s nothing we can do.”

No, there was something he could do. But after that, he couldn’t do this anymore.

He picked his phone up off the ground and dialed Ohya’s number, opening the kitchen drawer where knives were kept as he did so.

* * *

“Yeah?” Ohya said lazily into her phone, not bothering to look at who was calling. It was probably either her asshole editor or one of her friends.

“Ohya-san, it’s been a while,” a young voice said from the other end, confusing her for a moment before she managed to place it.

“Oh, Snitch Boy! How’ve ya been?”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have another story for you, free of charge this time. Can you come to my apartment?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I have the address written down somewhere... “ she said, checking her fanny pack for a notepad she saved for incidental addresses and numbers that she didn’t want clogging her phone’s contact list. Yup, there it was. “Bit weird of you not to come to me though,” she added.

“It’s a bit of a peculiar situation,” he explained. “Can you be here in about an hour?”

“Yeah, sure thing kid. I’ll see you then.”

There was an odd pause where she could faintly hear what sounded like a pen moving on paper before he answered, “Yeah. See you then.”

An hour later found her knocking on the door to the boy’s apartment for a third time. He had called her there at a specific time yet he was apparently standing her up? “Akechi-kun!” she called, knocking once more yet still not hearing any sign of a response. Annoyed, she put a hand on the knob, surprised when it turned. “Hey brat, I’m coming in!”

The apartment she walked into was brightly lit, all of the lights left on despite the apparent absence of its occupant. Instead, what greeted her was an envelope sitting near the door, reading “To Ohya-san. Read immediately.”

“...Oookay, that’s a bit weird,” she said to herself, finding it unsealed and pulling out the pages inside.

She soon found herself sitting in shock as she read. The contents of the letter described Akechi using methods of blackmail to coerce confessions out of suspects from past cases that had made him famous, going on to describe a plot to kill a cabinet minister down to the details from how he had intended to commit the act to how he had stolen a gun from police headquarters. Finally, the last half page described the events involving Madarame’s recent arrest, proclaiming himself the shooter and explaining everything he had done to get away with it.

The final lines read “Publish everything I’ve written here. Don’t let anyone stop you. Please make sure Yusuke Kitagawa is not convicted for the things I’ve done.

“Call the police and have them check the bathroom. Do not enter it yourself.”

Reading this, she glanced up and quickly came to the realization of why the lights were all on. If they had been off, she would have noticed the light seeping out from under the bathroom door. Slowly, debating if she really wanted to look, she got up from where she had been sitting on the couch and moved to the door. With a deep breath, she swung it open.

In her time as a journalist, there had been moments of desperation when Ohya had wished that she’d happen upon a body before anyone else so she could land the scoop. What that wish had never factored in was the body belonging to someone she knew who had bled out from a self-inflicted slit throat, the knife laying in the closed shower stall beside his slumped form.

On the counter was a second envelope addressed “To Yusuke”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE CHAPTER TO GO, HOO BOY. This is the point where I'm going to suggest reading Wax Nostalgic to those who haven't already, as the final chapter will be crossing over quite directly with it rather than just the casual references I've been including thus far.  
> Also, in regard to the Dojima cameo, I apologize if I horribly butchered his character. I haven't played P4 myself yet and just thought it would be a fun little addition.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for descriptions of grief and heavy mention of suicide in this chapter.

In the center of a too white hospital room, a man with too few memories lied in a bed staring at a television with its volume set too low. “Ichiryusai Madarame” he had been told was his name, but it felt no more his than those worn on the breasts of the nurses who tended to him. 

No loved ones had been by to express relief at his awakening. Instead, a police inspector had come to speak with him two days earlier, barely hours after he’d awoken and been told he’d been in a coma. From there, the inspector had asked him about an incident of which he had no recollection and for which he could provide no answers.

The figure on the TV screen chattered away as she delivered the morning news, the low volume leaving the man in the bed with only the broad strokes of the stories being covered given by the headlines appearing below her. Evidently finishing a story about a vehicular accident that had left two hospitalized and one dead, the headline changed.

“Detective Prince Dead,” it announced above a slightly more detailed “Local celebrity Goro Akechi found dead in home.” With mild interest, the man watched as the screen shifted away from the newscaster to a woman with shortly cropped black hair being interviewed. A few moments later, a picture of a shaggy haired teenager, apparently the deceased, was shown. The man suddenly sat up a bit straighter, groping for the remote that had fallen beneath the bed earlier, too much of a hassle to retrieve until now.

“-cause of death has been confirmed a suicide. Police have confirmed a note was found but have yet to issue a formal statement in regard to its contents, leaving some to speculate that the teen was being blackmailed due to his line of work. Just weeks ago, he was involved in the arrest of artist Madarame, who is currently under charges including child abuse, leading some to suspect a connection to the death. This has already lead to public outcry, as people are concerned about the safety of Madarame’s former victims. Moving on, our next story…”

The man in the bed turned the volume back down, leaning back against the pillow with eyes wide. After a few minutes, he reached for the button to call a nurse.

Madarame remembered.

* * *

In all the ways that Yusuke had imagined his life turning out, none of them had included finding himself shivering in a holding cell. A clock on the wall outside, just barely within view, ticked steadily as it told him that morning had arrived then passed, but he couldn’t say for sure whether he had managed to get any sleep. If he had, it had come purely from the previous day’s exhaustion and had done nothing to lessen how rung out he felt. 

He wasn’t alone in the cell, joined by a man who looked around forty and had slept leisurely, almost seeming taunting in his ability to do so, and had then spent the morning steadily drumming his fingers against the metal bench he lied on. Upon Yusuke’s arrival, he had asked nonchalantly what was in for, his tone practically mocking.  Yusuke hadn’t answered, nor had he returned the question in kind. Words didn’t seem to be his friends as of late.

A few minutes before the clock’s hour hand reached four, an officer appeared and loudly unlocked the cell door. “Well,” the other man said, sitting up, “about damn time.”

“Not you,” the officer interjected. “Sorry, but your friends haven’t shown up to bail you out this time. Kitagawa. You’re free to go.”

Yusuke stared at him blankly, not understanding. “What?”

“Your name’s been cleared, for now. Your lawyer friend is here to pick you up.”

Stiffly, he rose from the bench he had occupied for almost a full day and followed the officer. When they reached the room where Sae waited, he was alarmed to see that her eyes were rimmed with red, arms crossed across her chest in a way that seemed to be less about anger and more about holding herself together. He was barely through the door before she was stepping forward, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, voice hoarse. 

“Niijima-san? What’s going on…?”

He had only spoken with her directly a few times, but he had always found her to be the type to guard her true feelings, instead displaying the portrait of a steadfast and calculating businesswoman. Seeing her so openly display weakness was alarming to say the least.

When she pulled away, tears she wouldn’t let fall swam in her eyes. “I think you should sit down. There’s something I need to tell you.”

* * *

Freedom, as it had come, felt almost more imprisoning than that jail cell. 

Trying to stay in the apartment he and Akechi had shared proved to be disastrous. All of Akechi’s belongings were still there. His uniform was still folded neatly on top of the dresser, waiting to be worn again once the fall semester began. The small collection of mystery novels he had borrowed from his work rested on the coffee table, a green leather bookmark Yusuke had given him as a gift still tucked between one’s pages. 

The bathroom had been scrubbed clean by officials, all traces of what had happened in there washed down the drain, but the scent of bleach only served as a reminder.

And on the kitchen counter, still in the evidence bag from the police checking its contents, was the letter addressed to Yusuke that he was too afraid to read.

He had lasted little more than an hour before breaking down, typing out a barely legible text to Haru pleading for her to let him stay with her for a while. She arrived shortly thereafter, helping him gather his things much in the way Akechi had at Madarame’s atelier only two months earlier. 

Over a week passed until he ventured outside again. If the grief alone hadn’t been enough to shut him inside, the fear of seeing tabloids or video screens running stories on the incident certainly was. It was the story every local news and gossip source seemed to be obsessed with: Akechi’s final tell-all in the form of a suicide note, damning his name in the eyes of the public. Multiple people had come forward since the news hit, claiming to have been victims of the blackmailing he had admitted to. Madarame, memory now restored, had provided enough confirmation to the letter’s claims that the police had begrudgingly admitted their mistake in arresting Yusuke. As part of his confession, the letter had described blackmailing even Yusuke into agreeing to hide the truth of the assault, Akechi taking the full fall and clearing Yusuke of even the charge of accessory to a crime.

Finally, with a week left before school was due to start back up again and the news having moved on to a new point of interest to exploit, Yusuke received notice that the lease Akechi had held on the apartment was about to expire and that, while the landlord was very sorry about what had happened, Yusuke would have to either sign a new lease in his own name or find somewhere else to live. Between the matters of finance and memories, the choice was not a difficult one to make. A few calls later, Yusuke had arranged to share a room with another student in the Kosei dorms. Again with Haru’s help, it only took a single trip to pack up everything that was still left in the apartment. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with just donating all of this?” Haru asked in reference to the steadily growing pile of boxes by the door, the room now mostly bare save for the furniture that Yusuke had learned came with the small room. 

He nodded, pulling a few books and a fake plant off a bookshelf. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle keeping it,” he said simply. 

She was silent for a moment, watching the careful way Yusuke handled the items before saying, “How about just one box? You won’t have to unpack it any time soon, but maybe just one box.”

“...Okay.”

* * *

Madarame’s trial passed with nary an incident. Though it wasn’t free of stutters and hesitations, Yusuke managed to deliver the complete testimony Sae had had him practice beforehand, receiving a reassuring nod from her whenever it started to feel like too much.

The only bump in the road came when Madarame’s attorney called into question the legitimacy of the evidence Akechi had collected, but it was quickly overruled by Yusuke having been a witness for most of what his late boyfriend had brought to light. 

After only one hearing, Madarame was found guilty.

* * *

A loud sigh came from Yusuke’s bed, causing him to look up from his summer homework to see that Haru had apparently discarded her book in favour of glaring at the bunk bed above her as if it had offended her personally. 

“Is something the matter?” he asked, swiveling around in his desk chair so that he wasn’t straining his neck to look at her.

“Work.”

He glanced at the clock, reading that it was indeed evening as he had suspected. “I assume you’re not being called in for a bizarre late night shift. Did someone happen with your coworkers?”

Haru rolled over so that she was on her stomach, kicking her legs lazily as she traced the title of her novel. “Kind of. Y’know Kanji?”

“The tattoo artist whom you set me up with a few month ago?” Yusuke replied, thinking back to the awkward abrupt double date she had talked him into. At least Haru had gotten something out of it, seeing as she was still together with the girl she had been with for it.

“Yeah, him. Sorry about that, by the way. Yukiko was nervous about the whole date thing so we thought it would help to have Kanji along since they’ve known each other a while and I thought it might be a good opportunity for you considering you haven’t really seen anyone since-”

“It’s fine,” Yusuke cut in. “You’ve explained before; it’s in the past. What were you going to say about Kanji in regard to your work?”

“Oh! Right, so we’ve been really busy now that it’s summer. Like, I’ve probably been piercing someone every ten minutes, which really isn’t ideal considering I need to make sure everything is properly sterilized and positioned correctly and that there isn’t something going on with the person’s body that will likely cause the jewelry to reject out, and- Basically, we’re just ridiculously rushed, so we’ve been trying to bring new people on as interns and train them during the slower shifts, which is going fine in regard to piercing, but Kanji just  _ keeps _ getting into arguments with the interns we’ve been hiring as new artists!”

“Are they doing something wrong?”

“I don’t know! He tends to try to act intimidating around people he’s not familiar with, so maybe it’s just that, but I don’t have the time to be paying attention to what’s going on since I’m so busy myself. It’s already lead to two interns quitting and it’s making everyone even more stressed about the whole situation!”

“Hm…” he said thoughtfully, turning back around to his homework. It was barely a week into the summer break and he was already a decent way through the last assignment. The restaurant he had been bussing at only required him for a handful of shifts a week, and between that and Haru being busy with her own work, he hadn’t had much else to do. Usually he would have filled his time with art, but he seemed to be going through a bit of a block as of late.

Maybe a change in environment would help.

“Perhaps I could apply as an intern.” 

He didn’t have to turn around to know that Haru immediately perked up. “Would you?! You’d be okay with it after the whole date thing?!”

“I think so. I didn’t dislike Kanji by any means, we just didn’t really hit it off. Besides, I’m actually curious what it is that he’s getting so mad at the interns about. Do you think I should?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, jumping off the bed and throwing her arms around his neck. Despite the fact that he was sitting, the difference in their heights made it so that she barely had to lean down. “Yes yes yes! Honestly, I’ve thought of asking you before but I wasn’t sure if you’d be opposed to it! You’re a great artist though and Kanji really knows his stuff, so I’m sure you’ll do well! Do you have a copy of your resume? I can bring it when I go in tomorrow morning! Oh it’s going to be so fun having you as a coworker!”

A faint flutter of nerves pulsed in Yusuke’s stomach but, with Haru’s enthusiasm, he couldn’t help but laugh.

* * *

Over the hum of the tattoo gun, Yusuke could faintly hear Haru conversing with a boisterous voice presumably belonging to a potential customer. His ears perked at the sound of his name, hopefully the sign of someone requesting him. What with exams coming up, he had already had to lessen his hours in order to have enough time to squeeze in studying, giving advantage to the older artists whose work already tended to be more in demand. 

“So  _ then _ this guy starts demanding I let him talk the manager, saying that I was denying him service!” said the woman in the booth with him, gesticulating with the arm he wasn’t working on. The idea of the tattoo was simple enough, the head of a howling wolf done so that it looked like a collection of wide brush strokes save for the thin outline of the moon behind it, but she was unfortunately not the stillest of people. The fact that this slowed the process slightly would at least allow him to charge slightly more for time, but there was no doubt that it was an annoyance that she didn’t seem to pay mind to despite him politely asking her to stay still several times. “The menu was right in front of him, you can’t just ask for something completely different from anything on it and expect it to be handed to you! So I got the damn manager and he told him the same thing and  _ then  _ he listened. Of course he did. As soon as it’s another man talking, men suddenly respect what’s being said, the pigs. No offense.”

“None taken,” he assured, by now used to listening to customers harp on about various topics. Being stuck in a chair or on a table for hours with little else to do but talk lead to pretty interesting conversations sometimes. 

The scent of coffee being brewed wafted over to him, likely being made for either the person he had heard earlier or the man waiting patiently for this woman to be finished. His mouth watered slightly at the smell, though that only served as a slight irritation due to the actual taste of the parlor’s instant coffee not being particularly to his liking. Haru had mentioned to him recently that she’d come across an, in her words, amazing little coffee shop in Yongen-Jaya. Perhaps he would stop in on it after his shift ended. Considering the amount of material he still needed to review, he would probably be requiring caffeine anyway. 

Roughly half an hour passed like this, listening to and occasionally commenting in on the woman’s chatter as he finished filling in the “brush strokes” in varying colours. Despite the issue of her occasional movements, he found himself quite pleased with it by the time he proclaimed it done, asking if she would allow him to take a photo of it for his portfolio. 

With the bandages taped on, he drew back the curtain that had been closing them off from the rest of the store and lead her to the counter, joined by her companion who had been waiting much more quietly in the sitting area. Also sitting there, however, he noted two boys around his age flipping through a binder that he recognized as his own. Judging by their apparent demeanors, the blond one was the boisterous voice he had heard earlier. The other sat quietly with a paper cup in his hands, presumably the cause of the earlier coffee smell, seeming to watch Yusuke with a curious expression that reminded him a bit of a cat. His hair was a muss of dark curls falling over glasses that framed wide dark eyes.

He was pretty.

* * *

Yusuke awoke to the soft sensation of fingers running languidly up and down his back and nuzzled his face into the pillow, inhaling the now familiar scent of coffee and curry that seemed to permeate everything in this small apartment. Forcing open sleep laden eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Akira lying next to smile with a gentle smile on his face. “You looked like you were having a nightmare,” he murmured, moving his hand to Yusuke’s cheek. 

“Mm,” Yusuke said intelligently, brain hazy and longing to go back to sleep. “Stuff from high school.”

Akira said nothing, but gave Yusuke a concerned look. They made an effort to talk about when things were bothering them, had learned to do so after the hectic first few weeks after they’d met, but Akira was still aware that Yusuke’s past was not something he liked to talk about at length.

Yusuke rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight filtering through the window. “Do you have work today?” 

“Umm… I texted Futaba last night asking if she would take my shift…” There was the sound of Akira groping on the nightstand for his phone. “She said yes, thank god. You?”

“Two appointments today, I think. The grim reaper I was designing the other day and some touch ups on Niijima-san’s back tattoo,” Yusuke counted off in his head, trying to think if he was forgetting anything. It had been a very odd day when his former lawyer had come in asking for him to tattoo her, which had only become even odder when he learned she was the sister of his boyfriend’s ex. A small world indeed. “I don’t have to be in until one.”

Akira hummed. “Want me to start on breakfast?”

Yusuke simply grunted in response and Akira leaned over to give him a quick peck before rolling off the bed. A few minutes later, the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of something being fried wafted into the room, leading Yusuke to reluctantly get up and wander into the kitchen. Barely paying attention to where he was walking, he made a beeline towards where Akira stood at the stove and wrapped his arms around his torso, burying his face in curly hair. 

“Your coffee’s on the table,” Akira said with a chuckle but did nothing to detach Yusuke, wearing him like a cloak and he went about finishing breakfast. “You’re gonna have to let go to eat, you know.”

Yusuke considered this for a moment. “...You could feed me.”

Akira laughed in surprise. “Nope, I’m drawing the line there. Come on Mr Koala, off.”

Reluctantly, Yusuke finally released his hold and moved to his usual seat, watching as Akira placed a plate of scrambled egg in front of a stool where Morgana waited patiently before sitting down himself. It had taken a while, but Yusuke had gotten used to the habit of Akira’s furry companion eating with them. “He becomes even more of a brat when he’s treated like a normal cat,” he had explained when asked.

“Should we try to finish unpacking before you have to go in?” Akira asked once Yusuke had cleared away the empty plates, running water in the sink to wash them. “There’s only the one box left, isn’t there?” 

The last few weeks had seen Yusuke move out of his apartment at Akira’s proposal to live together. Boxes had, for a while, remained mostly untouched unless something in them was needed until a few days earlier when Akira had finally put his foot down, commenting that he was starting to worry Yusuke was second guessing the move. Yusuke had been quick to reassure him that he was having no such doubts, agreeing that they would try to get it done before the end of the week.

Yusuke’s hand paused, not looking up from the sponge he was holding. “...I’m not sure I want to unpack that one,” he said after a moment’s silence.

“...Can I ask what’s in it?” He didn’t look up, but he didn’t have to do so to know Akira was giving him hesitant look.

In silence, considering, he finished washing the dishes before moving back to the table, pulling Morgana into his lap as he sat. “When I moved out of Goro’s apartment after… after he died, I donated most of his things. Even some of my own things that reminded me too much of him. I wasn’t in the best of states, so… I was worried about what having them would do to me.”

“And that’s the box of what you kept,” Akira finished for him, a statement rather than a question.

He nodded.

A quiet passed between them, Akira looking to where the small box sat by the couch while Yusuke put his full attention into petting Morgana. “I think you should open it,” he said finally, meeting Yusuke’s gaze. “ _ We _ should open it. I won’t force you, of course, and you can stop at any time if you need to, but I feel like it might be a good thing to do. Maybe it’ll give you some closure you’re missing. And I’ll be here with you, if you want me to be.”

After a moment, he nodded again. “...Okay.”

With a nod of his own, Akira stood and crossed to the box, bringing it back to the table and taking the seat next to Yusuke who stared down at it as if it was liable of catching fire. “...We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel ready.”

Without a word, Yusuke tore off the tape that had been sealing the box shut for almost five years. 

The first few items he took out were innocuous: a couple books that Yusuke realized now were probably ones Akechi had only borrowed from the bookstore, the green leather bookmark, Akechi’s watch that had stopped at some point. He pulled them out one by one, explaining them to Akira who listened attentively and he found, to his surprise, that he was smiling a bit. 

It was when he got to a photo of the two of them together that he finally hesitated. The picture had been taken by Haru one of the few times all three of them had hung out together, a partially candid shot Haru had taken with her phone of Akechi and Yusuke on her couch together, Akechi’s head resting in his lap as they smiled up at her. He remembered asking Haru to send it to him, the two of them stopping at a convenience store on their way home to have it printed. It rested in a simple ¥200 wooden frame they had found at the same time, which Yusuke had decorated in flowing designs that night using a felt tip pen as Akechi watched from beside him in bed. 

Next was a brown knit sweater that Akechi had worn on a few unseasonably cool nights, arriving home from work shivering and rushing to pull it on before greeting Yusuke, later insisting on sleeping with the window open so that he wouldn’t have to take it off once they were under the blankets. The years inside the box had left it with the slight scent of cardboard but, despite that, it still smelled like him and Yusuke realized as he brought it to his nose that he had started crying. 

“...Is it okay if I keep this?” he asked, turning to look at Akira. Silly as it may have been under the circumstances, it felt wrong somehow to keep his ex’s clothes. 

With a small smile, Akira reached out and brushed his thumb gently across Yusuke’s cheek, allowing his hand to linger. There was a sad warmth in his eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t have asked you to open this if I was just going to get jealous of it.”

Nodding, he continued looking through the box, Akira moving closer to wrap an arm around his back.

Finally, at the very bottom, was the letter.

His fingers shook slightly as he pulled it out, flipping it over and running his eyes over every line of his name written in Akechi’s handwriting. 

“What is that?” Akira asked, evidently noticing the change in Yusuke’s demeanor. 

He swallowed. “It’s the note he left me when he… I never opened it.”

Arm still around him, Akira smoothed circles into his arm in an attempt to help comfort him.

He didn’t have to open it. He could put it, all of it, back into the box, hide it up in the corner of the shelf in the closet, and go back to pretending it didn’t exist. “Maybe it’ll give you some closure you’re missing,” Akira had said. Closure he’d gotten in telling Akira about Akechi that day in Leblanc. Closure he’d gotten by finally entering into a new relationship. Closure he was getting by moving in with someone else for the first time in five years.

Ripping off the bandaid. 

Steeling himself, he tore open the envelope. 

 

_ Yusuke, _

_ I’m sorry that I couldn’t say goodbye to you properly. I will admit, this is something I was prepared for. I was planning to use the gun on myself once I ended things with my father. This is just a different means to the same end. I’m only sorry that I couldn’t have ended things right with you, given you some sort of warning or driven you away first.  _

_ I am truly sorry.  _

_ I never intended for you to take the fall because of my actions. In the other note I left for the police, I left a full explanation of the truth. I can only hope that it will be accepted as truth and that you’re released. I’m sorry that I can’t handle being there to take the blame properly. I never should have gotten you involved.  _

_ I know we had our disagreements and that I wasn’t always the best to you. Late as it is, I apologize for my actions and I hope that you can forgive me. Please know that my feelings for you were genuine. I won’t say I didn’t do things to try to deceive you because that isn’t true, but I never meant to do anything to hurt you. _

_ I hope things go well for you in the future. I won’t blame you if you decide to forget me. _

_ I love you. _

_ Goodbye. _

 

He stared down at the letter in his hands, reading and then rereading it as he felt the tears falling hot and heavy. Akira gently pulled him into a hug, petting his hair in slow steady motions as he gave him the time he needed. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Yusuke said, focusing on the feeling of Akira’s arms around him. “I’m going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow despite the fact that I've been writing fanfiction for upwards of seven years now, this is the first time I've managed to finish a multi-chapter fic. Suffice to say I was doing a lot of yelling on Twitter last night. With that said, IT'S FINALLY DONE! Believe it or not, my original outline for this only had about five bullet points. I never expected it to get so long OR to go in a lot of the directions it did. Akechi was originally gonna kill Madarame actually, among a lot of other things that ended up changing or getting scrapped.
> 
> Also, now that it's done and there's no worry of giving things away, the title Rain or Shine is taken from the song of the same name by Elisa and was originally going to be the title for Wax Nostalgic. It wasn't until only a few minutes before I posted Wax that I thought to check the lyrics and realized how much better it fit the vague idea I had at the time for this.
> 
> SO, with everything said, thank you so so so much to everyone for reading this and everyone who supported me along the way! I mentioned in Wax Nostalgic's note that I was considering doing an additional Ann/Haru installment for this universe but at the moment that idea is on indefinite hold, both due in part to me being a bit intimidated by how long THIS got as well as I have another project I want to give my focus to. For the time being, this series is finished.
> 
> Thank you again for reading this and I hope you decide to read my stuff again in the future!! ヾ(･ω･)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter and Tumblr as bizarrequazar \\(0∀0)/


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